


What's Your Name?

by CatiDono



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer as Dean | Dean as Lucifer, Lucifer is not a great big bag of dicks, Supernatural Reverseverse, Vessel Dean, blatant disregard for canon, but not michael's, dean as Lucifer's vessel, everyone will probably be hurt at some point tbqh, sort of, the other angels are still great big bags of dicks though, the search for god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatiDono/pseuds/CatiDono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreaming about the devil should worry Dean more. But he looks so sad that Dean forgets to be scared.</p><p>AU where Dean is Lucifer's vessel, not Sam. It started as a short little drabble where Dean and Luci have a little heart to heart and discover they have more in common than they thought.  Takes place around the time of Free to Be You and Me, but with some obvious canonical changes. Title from "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones, chapter titles from "From Heads Unworthy" by Rise Against.  I'm terrible at descriptions, you might just want to try reading it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Are the Children You Reject and Disregard

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP that I'm moving over from my ff.net account, so you'll get a lot of chapters at once and then it'll return to my sloth-like update pace. Please don't let that stop you from reading though!!
> 
> PS Lucifer may seem out of character for the canon, but I feel like the poor guy's had enough time to mellow out and not want to kill all the people. So sue me.  
> 

Dean blinked, roused from sleep by the soft, reassuring sound of a woman humming. A moment later she began to sing, the words and voice so familiar that Dean sat up in bed, astonished.

"Hey, Jude; don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her…"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again Mary Winchester was standing at the foot of his bed. She was in the same dress that she had been wearing for Dean's third birthday, the one in the picture that Dean kept in the glove-box of the Impala. She was smiling the same way now as she had been then, amused at the look on Dean's face.

"Mom?" Dean's voice cracked slightly. Mary's smile became sad, and she sat on the bed next to him.

"No, Dean, I'm not Mary. I thought it might comfort you to see me like this though. I didn't want to alarm you, seeing as how you've been having a rough few weeks."

Every hair on the back of Dean's neck stood up. "Who—what the hell are you then?" He glanced at Sam, wondering if he would be able to wake his brother before whatever it was could stop him.

As if reading his thoughts, the thing that looked like Mary shook its head. "This is a dream, Dean, Sam's not really here. Don't worry!" It reassured hastily as Dean tensed. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk. I swear that's the truth." It tilted its head to one side in a way that reminded Dean way too much of the way mom used to when she was waiting for an answer.

"Look, can you not?" Dean muttered, rubbing his face. He figured that if the thing hadn't hurt him yet, it wasn't planning to anytime soon, and his fear was starting to give way to irritation.

"Can I not what?" The thing stared curiously at Dean through Mary's wide eyes.

"Don't bother with the whole 'I come in peace' speech. And stop pretending you're my mom. Just—just look like you're supposed to, OK?" Dean knew he should probably be a little more freaked out, but by now he was legitimately curious as well as annoyed. What sort of monster showed up in his dreams just to talk?

Mary watched him intently for a moment, then nodded. Something clicked in Dean's head and he found himself looking at a perfectly normal man, middle-aged, with sandy hair, blue eyes, and a stubbly chin, like he hadn't bothered to shave in a few days. Dean raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and the man shrugged in response.

"I know, not very awesome or scary. This isn't my best outfit. That's why I'm here, actually." The man spoke lightly, but Dean shivered. Something about the way he said "outfit" made Dean think he wasn't talking about clothes. The stranger continued, in his deceptively relaxed voice, "Have you ever had that one suit that fits just right? No tightness in the shoulders or pants that need hemming, just that one perfect set of clothes that you look damn good in?" He smiled gently, as if trying to remove the significance from his next words. "For me, that's you Dean."

Dean was torn between wanting to run away and wanting to punch the man in the face as hard as he could. He did neither, taking deep breaths until he could speak relatively calmly. "So, you're saying that you're an angel, and I'm your vessel? For an angel, you're not all that intimidating, and the answer's no."

"Look, just hear me out," the man pleaded as Dean turned away. "There's some really crazy things going on right now, and you and Sam are, as usual, right in the middle of it. I can help you protect your little brother from what's coming. I want to help you protect your brother! Believe me, I know what it's like to see war on the horizon and know that it's your family that's gonna get torn up in it."

Dean glanced sharply at the man, whose face was full of such deep and ancient grief that it made Dean's soul quake. He turned his away quickly, feeling as though he had walked into something very personal. Groping around for another topic, he realized that the angel hadn't even introduced himself. ""So, what's your name? I've gotta call you something."

The being on the bed frowned. "This is where the relationships always start to go downhill," he joked feebly. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to call me Nick? That's my current vessel's name."

" _Your_  name." Dean repeated firmly. "Now."

"I'd ask you not to judge me by it, but it doesn't matter.  You will anyway." Straightening up proudly, the man proclaimed, "My name is Lucifer." He glared defiantly at Dean, waiting for the explosion.

Dean did not disappoint. With a curse, he scrambled out of the bed, backing away until he bumped into the table. He glanced around wildly, wondering if there was anything he could use to defend himself from the fallen angel. Lucifer stood slowly, disappointment in his features.

"Dean, I just want to talk. Knowing my name doesn't change my intentions."

"Get out of my head!" Dean ordered. As if he hadn't heard, Lucifer walked past him and collapsed into a chair with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if it ached. Dean blinked. For someone claiming to be the Devil, he seemed more tired than evil.

"You know," Dean said cautiously, every sense still on high alert, "You look pretty worn out for the guy who's supposed to be the root of all evil."

Lucifer let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah? I bet you'd get tired of it real fast if everyone you met flipped a shit when you introduced yourself." He let his head fall back, eyes roaming aimlessly across the ceiling. "Nobody even knows what my name means anymore, it's just another word for Satan, the Devil."

"Light-bringer." Dean hadn't meant to say it, but this fallen angel slumped in a motel chair inspired more pity in him than anything else. "Morningstar. That's what it means. You were the brightest angel out of all of them." Dean shrugged defensively as Lucifer opened one lid to eye Dean with surprise. "What? You hunt monsters your whole life, you learn things."

Lucifer flashed Dean the tiniest smile, one that still managed to convey his gratefulness. For some reason, it made Dean feel vaguely guilty. Inching over to the other chair, Dean slid into it. When Lucifer opened his other eye to fix him with a curious stare, Dean growled, "Look, I'm not saying yes or anything, but I don't have to stand around all night waiting for you to leave."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Lucifer tapping his fingers aimlessly on the tabletop and examining the ceiling once more. Dean turned his chair so that he could sit backwards on it, straddling the seat and facing Lucifer around the corner of the table. Another question occurred to him. "Why now anyway? What's in it for you if you torch the planet?"

Lucifer turned his head to gaze at Dean again, confusion and slight irritation in his face. "I don't want to torch the planet! Why would I give a crap about it one way or the other? All I want is to go back to heaven, find my Father, and apologize. Try to make amends for what I've done, somehow." He sighed.

It was Dean's turn to be confused. "Okay, so why don't you?"

"I can't. Not enough 'mojo' as you would say. Being in a vessel helps channel my power a little, but Nick isn't  _my_  vessel." At Dean's uncomprehending expression, Lucifer elaborated. "It's like trying to run a marathon in an eleven-year-old's skinny jeans. Except I can rip a pair of jeans. I bust out of this," Lucifer gestured at his current body, "before I get to heaven, and I get sucked right back into Hell."

"What, and I magically make it all better?"

"Lucifer grinned at Dean. "You were made for me, Dean. Not to put too fine a point on it, but you are the silkiest, comfiest pair of running shorts ever to cup my—"

"Ohhhhkay, TMI. Thank you, I am officially grossed out. So if all you want to do is go home, how come all the other angels are so sure that you're pulling the world down around our ears?"

Lucifer was silent for a moment. "If I had to guess, I would say it's Michael."

"You mean the archangel Michael?"

"Yes." Lucifer nodded sadly. "He still thinks I want to fight."

"So why not just tell him your plans have changed?" it made perfect sense to Dean, but Lucifer was shaking his head.

"Father of Lies, remember? Even if I can get them to listen before they smite, no one is ever going to believe me. I don't even know why  _you_  believe me."

Dean had to give that one a bit of thought. It was true; if someone had told him when he went to sleep that he would spend the night chatting it up with the Devil, Dean would told them to go fuck themselves. So why did this seem okay to him?

"I guess," he began slowly, trying to put it into words, "I guess I just know what it's like for people to judge you before they even know you."

"What do you mean?" Lucifer's voice and gaze were genuinely curious.

"I'm a Winchester." Dean gave a humorless chuckle. "If there was a gene for bad luck, it would be named after our family. Between us, my brother and I have let hundreds of demons loose in the world, started the apocalypse, and been directly and indirectly responsible for the deaths of a whole lot of innocent people. I've had to start giving other hunters a fake name over the phone, just to get them to talk to me. And since they all somehow know what we look like, walking into anyplace like the Roadhouse to just hang out and get a beer is out the window, and now Bobby's in a wheelchair because of us, and—" Dean stopped abruptly, embarrassed and a little alarmed that he was whining about his problems to Lucifer, of all people.

Lucifer leaned forward in his chair and gave Dean a sad, slightly apologetic smile that made Dean's heart clench. "And on top of all that," he finished softly, "you've got the damn Devil popping up in your dreams, saying he wants to wear you like a pair of shorts." He stood abruptly, mouth tugged down at the corners in a tight frown. "I should go. You need to get some proper sleep anyway."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, although he wasn't sure if he was going to say "no, wait" or "good riddance", but it didn't matter. Lucifer was gone, and Dean was lying on the motel bed again, sliding down into dreamless sleep. Right before he drifted off, he heard someone singing again. This time, it was Lucifer's soft tenor, soothing and sweet.

_And any time you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders…_


	2. These Aching Cries—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took major liberties with Genesis here. Just... just go with it?

"I don't like this, Dean." Castiel's voice was soft but intense as always. Dean continued to pace around the room, cursing internally and avoiding the angel's gaze. He knew this had been a bad plan.

"You're not serious," Sam exclaimed in disbelief. "After all the crap you gave me about Ruby, you're gonna turn around and tell me that this is okay?"

"Chill, Sam, it's not like I married the guy!" Dean replied defensively. "And besides, this is way different from you and Ruby."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, it's different. Ruby was a minor demon, you're having pillow talk with freaking Satan!"

"Look, guys, he's just trying to find his dad and apologize." Dean glared at Sam. "We know what that's like. It's not like he's trying to destroy the planet or kill anyone." Dean was regretting his decision to tell Sam and Cas about his dream more and more with each passing second.

"Dean, Lucifer is called the Father of lies for a reason," Cas reminded him. "You can't trust his words."

"He wasn't lying to me!" Dean's voice was rougher than he'd intended, and Sam and Cas both stared at him. Forcing himself to sound calm, Dean continued, "I just… I know, okay? He was telling the truth." Dean plowed on before either of them could raise another objection. "Look guys, I'm not going to say yes, but I'm not going to tell him to piss off either. I'm all for hearing the rest of what he's got to say, and you're either with me or against me. What's it gonna be?"

The pause that followed stretched far longer than Dean would have liked, and he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. Finally, Cas bowed his head.

"Of course I'm with you, Dean." When he looked up, his eyes were bitter. "I certainly don't have anywhere else to be."

"Thanks, Cas—" Dean started to say, but the angel vanished in a flutter of invisible wings before he could get the words out. Somehow, he managed to be even more abrupt about it than usual. Dean groaned inwardly. Great. The guy wasn't speaking to him again.

When Dean turned to look at him, Sam held up his hands in defeat. " I swear Dean, if you get us all killed, I'm going to find you on the other side and kill you again anyway. What's your plan?"

"Plan?" Dean blinked. "Honestly, I was expecting the two of you to try and lock me up in the panic room or something. I never got to the part about what to do if you actually  _agreed_  with me." As Sam continued to stare expectantly, Dean turned away and began to rummage through his duffel, trying to pretend he didn't feel his brother's gaze.

"Just don't do anything stupid Dean," Sam pleaded.

Dropping his bag on the floor, Dean threw himself across the motel bed, burying his face in the slightly musty pillow.

"Dean, I'm serious!"

"I know!" Dean snapped. "I know, okay? Can we be done with the discussion for the night? Just let me sleep in peace?" To his relief, Sam didn't respond, and a few minutes later the lights flicked off. For a long time, Dean just lay awake in bed, trying to figure out if he was doing the right thing. Eventually he drifted off, Cas' warnings still running through his head.

In his dream, Dean found himself at a familiar place, a park in a small town in South Dakota where he had gone when John didn't need him for their current job. It had been the first hunt they had gone on since Sam left for Stamford, and Dean had been torn between missing his brother and hating him for deserting his family. The park had given him a welcome place to escape from his life for an hour or two and just relax.

Now he walked over to the rusty playground and sat on one of the swings, hearing the plastic creak under his weight. The only other sound was the rustle of the wind in the trees, and Dean was filled with the same sense of security the place had always given him. He sighed deeply as he felt the tension go out of his shoulders.

"Somehow, I expected there to be more half-naked women."

Dean didn't even flinch as Lucifer appeared, leaning casually on the swingset support next to him.

"So," the fallen angel continued, digging a toe into the woodchips under his feet. "How was your day?"

"I told Cas and Sam about our conversation the other night." Dean kept his voice steady and his eyes fixed on the ground. In the corner of his vision, he saw Lucifer's foot pause for a moment before resuming its aimless excavation.

"They want us to stop seeing each other, don't they?" Lucifer joked lightly. When Dean didn't respond, he sighed heavily. "Are you going to listen to them? I won't be offended if you do. It wouldn't be the first time someone didn't trust me." Once again, Dean heard the bitter undertones in the angel's words, along with an unspoken accusation that made Dean's heart clench guiltily. He hated feeling guilty.

"Well you can't really blame them," Dean retorted before he could stop himself. "I mean, you did start the whole war in heaven and all. Plus you got humanity kicked out of the Garden of Eden, which kind of ruins the whole 'let's be friends' vibe." The moment the words left his mouth, Dean mentally kicked himself for being such an asshole. He glanced up, wanting to apologize, and found Lucifer staring at him with wide, furious eyes.

The temperature suddenly plummeted about sixty degrees, and Dean shifted nervously. Frost began to creep along the pole that the fallen angel was leaning against, spreading across the ground like glittering fingers. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and the sense of peace that Dean had felt vanished.

"Oh? You know all that, do you?" Lucifer's voice was low and venomous. Dean tried to get up and back away but ice crackled up from the ground around his feet, trapping him in place.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I'm just on edge and I—" Dean stopped speaking as the ice crept up his legs a little further, the cold seeping through his jeans and biting into his flesh. Needle-sharp shards of ice coated everything, pricking his hands and sides when he tried to move. Lucifer loomed over him, and Dean could feel the force of his frozen wrath.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Lucifer snarled, clenching his fists. "That  _woman,_ " he spat the word like a curse, and another wave of cold rolled over Dean's skin, "came to me and asked me to come see this tree, the one my father told her never to take fruit from. She said that she wanted a taste and asked if I could get some of the fruit for her. I told her no. She insisted, and I refused and left." The ice crystals were growing, working their way up to Dean's hips until he wanted to cry out, but Lucifer's words and gaze held him paralyzed.

"The next day, I was called before my Father and accused, by her and that brainless man, of tempting them and tricking them into eating the forbidden fruit. And he  _believed_  them. Over me, his son, one of his firstborn. Do you have the slightest idea what that's like?"

"No, I don't," Dean stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Dean." The ice shards were growing faster and more wildly, cutting into Dean's arms and legs as he sat there, powerless. "You act like I wanted this, like I somehow deserved to be cast out of my home and hated by my family. I didn't want any of it Dean, not the war, or the fall. And I certainly didn't ever want to sink so low that I needed to ask an imperfect little human like yourself for help. So don't speak so lightly about things you can't possibly understand." Lucifer's voice was shaking with a rage so deep and uncontrollable that it scared Dean shitless. He opened his mouth to respond, although there wasn't really anything he could say, but there was a sudden sharp pain in his back.

As he watched, a spear of ice pierced through his body from behind, the bloody tip emerging just under his ribcage. Dean coughed in disbelief, blood dripping from his lips, and glanced up at Lucifer as icy pain like nothing he'd felt since Hell radiated out from the wound. The devil looked as startled as Dean, the anger fading from his features as he stared at his handiwork. Or maybe it was just his features fading entirely, Dean thought woozily. The edges of his vision blurred and faded to black, and Dean realized that he was dying in his own dream. Again.


	3. —Come from the Bottom of Our Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> light on the Luci, but that'll come next chapter

Dean woke in the motel room with a gasp, clutching at his stomach. He could still feel the burn of the ice in his gut, and he realized he was shivering. Rolling over, he saw Sam lying in bed with his eyes wide open, watching him.

"Bad dream?" Sam asked softly. Dean nodded slowly, waiting for his racing heart to settle. "Was it him?" Sam wasn't being accusatory, just curious, but Dean still couldn't keep eye contact with him.

"No," Dean muttered, "go back to sleep." Rolling out of bed, he dug around in his bag until he found his emergency stash of whiskey. The burn of the alcohol washed away the bitter taste in his mouth.

The next morning, Dean woke with a pounding head and the realization that he had not dreamed after downing half the bottle. Sam confronted him as he splashed water on his face, blocking the bathroom door so that Dean couldn't get out.

"You were lying last night Dean; I know you were dreaming about the Devil again. You said his name in your sleep, that's what woke me up before you. And you yelled like he was hurting you." Sam refused to move as Dean tried to slip past him out of the bathroom without answering. "Come on man, just tell me what happened?"

"Will you please get out of the way and let me get my pants?" Dean asked in irritation, but Sam just put on his best bitchface and stood there. "Fine," Dean snapped. "Yes, it was Lucifer, no I didn't say yes, no he wasn't hurting me" _on purpose, I think_ , Dean added silently. "And if I sounded like I was in pain it was because I was having a nightmare about you forcing me to watch 'Gilmore Girls'. Now move, Sammy!"

As he pushed past his little brother, Dean wondered if he should mention Lucifer's story about Eden, but decided not to. Partially it was because he knew that Sam would just tell him it was Lucifer lying again, but it was also because it just seemed wrong. What Lucifer had told him felt very… personal. The idea of Sam, and probably by extension Cas, knowing about it made Dean uncomfortable, especially since they would both just use it against Lucifer one way or another. Sam gave him a look that told Dean he didn't believe him, but didn't ask Dean about it again.

The next night, Dean's dreams were notably empty of fallen angels, much to Sam's relief. The night after, as Dean slept and Sam drove through the night in order to get to a hunt before the solstice, the most rebellious thing in Dean's dreams was a bush that refused to die even when Dean attacked it with hedge clippers. The rest of the week went the same way, leaving Dean alone in dreams that were as normal as his dreams ever got.

As the days passed, Dean grew uneasy. He couldn't shake the memory of the pain and betrayal in Lucifer's voice as he shouted, "he believed them, over me!" Dean kept thinking about how he would have felt if John had ever done something like that to him, how much it would have hurt. He desperately wanted to tell Lucifer that he was sorry, that he believed him, but the fallen angel continued to avoid him. Each morning Dean woke up more tired and irritated that the one before, despite having a perfectly uninterrupted night's sleep. It didn't help that Sam noticed and started asking Dean what was wrong. Since Dean didn't want to admit that he was worried about Lucifer, or that the only person he was angry at was himself, Dean dodged the question every time.

After a particularly fruitless round of questions and not-quite answers, Sam announced that he was tired of talking to his "angsty teenage brother" and left the motel, muttering about doing research at the bar. Dean didn't argue, waiting until his brother was gone before retrieving a beer from the cooler and beginning to pace around the room anxiously. By the fourth beer he was tired and slightly drunk, but he didn't want to sleep. The thought of another night uselessly wishing he could apologize to Lucifer was too much.

"Dean, what is bothering you?"

Dean turned at the end of his pacing and slammed into Cas, who had once again appeared well inside his personal bubble. It was like walking into a brick wall, and Dean stumbled back, cursing as his beer slopped over slightly.

"Jesus, Cas! Why can't you use the door like a normal person? You're seriously gonna give me a heart attack one of these days!"

"I am not a normal person Dean, I am an angel of the lord. Also I believe that your fondness for cheeseburgers is far more likely to cause your system to succumb to cardiac arrest than my presence." Cas' response was deadpan, and Dean glared suspiciously at him, trying to figure out if the angel had grown a sense of humor. When Cas stared back unblinkingly, Dean gave up and sat at the table, lifting his beer to his lips for another swig.

Cas frowned and gestured slightly, and Dean suddenly found himself holding a bottle of water. Furious, Dean looked across the room to see Cas holding the beer in his hand the way one would grip a poisonous snake.

"What the hell, Cas?" All of Dean's pent up frustration finally found an outlet, and he glared at the angel. "Give me back my damn beer!"

"You shouldn't drink so much alcohol Dean," Cas replied solemnly, walking to the bathroom and pouring the beer down the sink. "Sam is worried about you. He says that your liver is going to fail any day now, and I find myself agreeing with him."

"God dammit!" Dean yelled, tossing the water bottle aside. "I paid money for that beer Cas! And since when do you and Sam discuss my drinking habits behind my back?" Dean considered getting another beer just to spite him, but decided that he couldn't risk the angel magicking away the whole cooler. He settled instead for getting up in Cas' face and growling, "piss off Cas, I don't need a nanny to keep track of me."

"I did not say I was your caretaker Dean," Cas answered calmly. Despite being shorter than Dean, he still managed to loom over him in a mildly threatening manner. "Tell me Dean, why are you upset? You haven't seen Lucifer in days, and Sam said that all of your hunts have been going well."

"I'm upset because you just poured my Bud down the drain!" Dean tried to glare at Cas but it was like glaring at the ocean- it had no effect other than to give him a headache.

"You know that's not what I meant Dean." Cas sounded faintly annoyed, and it secretly pleased Dean.

"I know!" Dean took his seat at the table again, hoping the angel would take the hint and leave, but Cas just followed him across the room and proceeded to loom over him there. "Look Cas, what can I say that will make you go away and let me drink in peace? I just got Sam out the door."

"I don't understand why you feel as if you owe Lucifer anything."

Dean froze, staring at the angel in shock and outrage. "Have you been spying on my dreams or something?"

The night before, Dean had found himself back at the park, in the playground that was still covered in icy daggers. He had wandered around for what felt like hours, alternately asking and demanding that Lucifer come back and listen to him. The whole place had been empty and silent as a tomb. Or so he'd thought.

"That is not the point—" Cas began, but Dean cut him off.

"Stay the hell out of my head Cas, you've got no right to be there!"

"And Lucifer has?" Cas asked coolly. Dean ignored him.

"I swear to god I will angel-proof my car and sleep in the backseat if I have to. Just mind your own damn business!"

"This  _is_  my business Dean!" for the first time, there was real anger in the angel's voice, as well as a hint of desperation. "You are my business, you and Lucifer. Do you think the other angels want Lucifer to be in his strongest vessel? Once we realized he was after you, I had to convince them not to smite you on the spot. I swore to them that you would never say yes, bartered my life in exchange for yours. If Zachariah thinks you're even considering letting the devil in, he will send angels down to stop you and punish me. And if that means killing you, even throwing your soul back into the pit, he will do so without hesitation." The intensity in Cas' voice was disturbing. "Please Dean. Don't push them."

For a moment, Dean could only stare. Would they really do that? He pictured Zachariah's smug face and ground his teeth. That bastard would probably strap Dean back onto the rack himself. The thought of going back to Hell made Dean's stomach churn. He would do anything to avoid going back there, but what if that meant leaving Lucifer out to dry?

Another thought struck him then—Lucifer had been trapped in his own personal corner of Hell for millennia. If Dean turned his back on him now, the devil was almost sure to be tossed right back in. Whatever else Lucifer said, Dean believed him about that. And he realized that he could never willingly be responsible for anyone going to Hell, even if it wasn't directly his fault.

"Cas," he asked slowly, already fairly sure of the answer. "How would they even find out if I was planning to say yes? My ribs are all marked up in Enochian aren't they?"

"Yes Dean. As part of the agreement, I—"Cas faltered—"I have to keep watch over you for them."

"So as long as you tell them I'm being a good little boy, we're safe?"

"Dean," Cas began warningly, seeing where the hunter was going with this. "You're asking me to lie to Heaven, to disobey a direct order, and possibly to endanger millions of innocent lives." Cas' face was an emotionless mask but Dean thought he saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "All because you believe that the Father of Lies is telling you the truth about his motives. Dean, I didn't even tell you the truth about  _my_  motives when we first met."

"Yeah, and look where that got us," Dean muttered. "Look Cas, I'm asking you to be family. To trust me." Dean stood and grasped the angel by the shoulders, forcing Cas to look him in the eye. "I'm asking you to trust that I know what I'm doing. He needs my help and I'm going to help him, or else I deserve everything those angels are threatening me with. The ball's in your court now, buddy. If you tell them, then I'm almost definitely going back to Hell, and they won't be too happy with you either. But if I can find Lucifer again, I'm going to say yes. So the real question is, do you trust me?"

Cas stared at Dean with wide, sad eyes for a long time, as though hoping Dean would laugh and shout "just kidding!" When Dean did nothing but squeeze his shoulders tighter, the angel closed his eyes, reaching up to grasp Dean's forearm briefly. Then Cas wordlessly vanished in a flutter of invisible wings. Dean was left holding empty air, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the drinking.


	4. You Can't Disown Us Now

Dean paced for another ten minutes, waiting nervously for some sort of heavenly retribution to rain down on his unprotected head, but nothing happened. Finally, the combination of alcohol and excitement began to take its toll, and Dean found himself nodding off on his feet. Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, he stripped to his boxers and stretched out on the bed. Before he could brace himself for disappointment once more, he fell asleep.

For the second night in a row, Dean was back in the park where he had fought with Lucifer, alone. Dean wondered if Cas was still spying on his dreams, and he flipped the bird to his surroundings just in case. As he wandered across the park, he saw the swingset, ground zero of the ice-storm. One particularly vicious spike of ice protruded at an angle from the rest, the tip still stained with phantom blood. Dean reached out a hand to touch it, wondering how it must have looked to Lucifer. Had his body just stayed there, impaled? Or had it disappeared when he woke up? Thinking about it made Dean shiver.

"Look," he muttered, not bothering to raise his voice. If Lucifer was spying like Cas, he would hear. If he wasn't, then it didn't matter how loudly Dean shouted. "I'm sorry I said what I did, it was a dick move. And I don't really mind that you stabbed me, sort of, because I don't think you did it on purpose. So if you're here can you come out and at least talk to me? I'm not sure how much time I have."

The only response was a warm breeze, one that ruffled Dean's hair and smelled faintly of apple pie. With a grimace, Dean turned away from the playground. He hadn't been expecting any sort of answer, but the rejection still stung a little. He had taken one step in the opposite direction, not really thinking about where he was going, when a sharp snap split the air. He whirled as more staccato cracks echoed across the playground, just in time to see the ice behind him explode into a million tiny fragments. Each shard glinted and flickered in the sunlight before melting away. Someone coughed behind him, and he spun back around to see Lucifer standing in the grass. Dean was about to make a comment on the unnecessarily dramatic entrance, but then he really looked at the fallen angel before him.

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" Dean gasped. The entire left side of Lucifer's face was raw, massive red sores gaping on his cheek and forehead. There was blood on his clothes, dark stains over his joints as though they leaked when he moved. It looked as though he might fall over at any second, and break every bone in his body when he hit the ground.

"Nothing much," Lucifer said with a small grin. The motion cracked one of the scabs on his face, and he winced as blood began to leak out again. "I just exerted myself a little more than was wise while trying to evade my brothers and sisters." He swayed dangerously, and Dean managed to lunge forward and catch his wrist as he started to topple backwards. Dean could feel bones shifting and cracking under his fingers and he cursed, lowering Lucifer into a sitting position and crouching in front of him. The fallen angel drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them, clearly exhausted.

"Why didn't you come back sooner?" Dean asked furiously. He wasn't sure why, but the sight of Lucifer in so much pain made him angry, almost as angry as when Sam got hurt. He tried to picture himself in the same situation, on the run from everyone he used to be able to trust, and a whole new wave of fury rose up in him. Nobody deserved that. Everyone needed at least one person, just one, that they knew would stand by them no matter what. Dean thought of what had happened when he and Sam had abandoned each other, and his righteous anger swelled.

"Well gee, I don't know, maybe because I was pretty sure you wouldn't want to see me ever again after I killed you in your own dream." Lucifer's voice was acidic. "Or maybe because my little brother Castiel has been hovering around the edges of your consciousness ever since, waiting for a sign of me that he could report back to Zachariah." He sighed, leaning back against a tree that Dean was pretty sure hadn't been there before. "I'm sorry, it's been a long few weeks. I had actually given up hope, but I heard you calling tonight and for some reason Castiel wasn't here." The stare that Lucifer leveled at Dean held concern, although Dean wasn't sure who it was for. "You didn't do anything…  _drastic..._  to him, did you?"

"What?" Dean was seriously pissed off now. "You think I'd hurt Cas just so he would get out of my head? I didn't even know he was  _in_  my head until about two hours ago!"

Lucifer's brow creased in confusion. "What happened then? Surely Zachariah didn't order him to leave your mind unguarded?"

Dean snorted. "I doubt it. I think Cas might be exercising his free will a little." He smiled proudly. "I knew he had it in him." When Lucifer just stared, Dean's smile faded a little. "What, why are you giving me that look?"

"I just never thought, of all my siblings, it would be Castiel who would disobey. He must really trust you Dean."

Silence fell as Dean thought about what he'd said to Cas about being family, and he felt a warm little ball of hope settle in his chest. So Cas had decided to trust him after all.

After a few moments, Lucifer broke the silence. "Look, don't mean to rush you, but I can't stay in one place too long. As soon as Zachariah finds out that Castiel has abandoned his post, a score of angels is going to come after me here. So let's get to the point, why did you have to talk to me?"

"Because I wanted to change my answer." Dean spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to settle his racing heart. "Yes."

Lucifer stared at Dean in disbelief. The silence stretched between them for so long that Dean began to fidget nervously, wondering if he'd said something wrong.

"Hello?" he asked, waving his hand in front of Lucifer's face. With a visible effort the fallen angel lifted his arm and swatted Dean away. "Don't toy with me," he growled, eyes wary.

"I'm serious," Dean protested. "Yes. I'll be your vessel. I want to help you find God." Taking a deep breath, the hunter closed his eyes and waited for a white light, or a sharp pain, or something. When nothing changed, he opened one eye and peeked out at the fallen angel, who was still regarding him in silence.

"Why?" Lucifer's question was simple and yet loaded with so many emotions that Dean couldn't tell them apart. He heard uncertainty and confusion, a lot of distrust, and underneath it all a tiny note of what might have been hope.

"Because you're the only one who asked nicely." When Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him, Dean shrugged, searching for the right words. "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they act when they need someone's help. Uriel and Zachariah, they tried to beat the shit out of me to get me to do what they wanted. All you did was ask nicely. Hell, you even left when you thought I wanted you gone. And I can tell that you honestly care about making things right. Takes one to know one and all that."

"Less than a week ago, I lost control of my emotions and stabbed you with an icicle. If we hadn't been in a dream when it happened, I could have killed you. How can you possibly trust me after that?"

"I trust you  _because_  you have emotions!" The fierceness in Dean's voice made Lucifer glance up in surprise as he continued. "Zachariah, Uriel, even Anna after she found her Grace, they're machines. I can't read them, and I sure as hell don't understand what they're thinking. But I do understand anger. I understand feeling abandoned and betrayed, and I understand needing to make things right." Dean took another steadying breath, then nodded at the fallen angel again. "So yes, I'll do it."

After examining Dean's face for another few moments, as if searching for hidden motives, Lucifer gave a small huff of disbelieving laughter. "I believe that you believe you want to do this, but I've gotta be up front with you; this is going to hurt," he told Dean frankly. "You'll be riding shotgun the whole time, so even if I keep us in one piece you're going to feel every hit, every wound your body takes. If you want—" Lucifer paused, unsure if the offer would offend Dean. "I can send you on ahead. Like I did with Nick here, so that there's nobody home but me. Of course if I do that you won't ever have even the chance of getting your body back, but it'll all be over. The pain, the confusion, the burden of wondering if what you're doing is the right thing." Lucifer's eyes were dark with the memory of how much that burden has cost him.

For a split second Dean wanted to take Lucifer up on the offer, but then his eyes hardened and he shook his head firmly, a snort of unamused laughter escaping from him. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stick this one out. I can't just leave Sam there, when this is all over. Besides, who cares if it hurts like hell? I've been there and done that, literally. Unless you take thirty years to find God, I think I'll be okay. So let's get this over with now, yeah?" Dean was proud to hear that his voice didn't shake in the slightest.

"Alright, if you're absolutely sure," Lucifer hauled himself back upright with a groan, fresh blood staining his clothes in a few more places. "Look into my eyes. And Dean, just so you know, you are the bravest human that it has ever been my unexpected pleasure to meet."

Dean gave a lopsided grin in answer, reaching out to steady the fallen angel as he swayed uncertainly. "Brave or just stupid. And you're not so bad yourself, for the devil." Anything else he had been meaning to say was forgotten as Dean stared into Lucifer's blue eyes.

It seemed to Dean that the irises were expanding, swallowing everything else until his vision was obscured by a swath of blue sky that was full of tiny, twinkling stars. A rushing sound filled his ears, and he had the sensation of something huge and unstoppable bearing down on him, like a tidal wave. The stars shone brighter and brighter until it hurt Dean's eyes to stare at them, and still the sense of something building around him continued to grow. Just when he thought he might go blind, he heard a massive, chiming, screeching howl, the same type of noise that he had heard when Castiel used his true voice. This time though Dean clearly heard his own name being spoken, in a way that somehow summed up everything he was, and had been, and could be. It was as if the being before him had summed up his entire existence in a second, and then it was all gone. The noise, the light, all of it disappeared as though it had been sucked down a black hole, and Dean found himself falling in an endless, comforting blackness.


	5. We Are Your Own Flesh and Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise fluff! I'm trying not to make this one as horribly dark as the rest of my fics......

Dean woke up with the feeling that he was somewhere in total darkness, strapped to a table and unable to move. He panicked, trying to sit up, or open his eyes or even just move a finger, but he couldn't. Suddenly he had the sense that someone else was there with him, and a soothing feeling washed over him. Oh right, Lucifer. Dean had said yes. And it was dark because…  _hey, genius; open your eyes_. Dean wasn't sure if he could communicate with Lucifer by thought alone, but he felt a spark of amusement from the angel in response.

Lucifer opened Dean's eyes and sat up, shrugging his shoulders and flexing his arms, getting used to his new vessel. "Oh my _god_ ," he sighed, in Dean's voice. "You are so much more comfortable than Nick."

 _Eww, dude, why don't you try to sound_ more _creepy._ Dean replied inside his head. It was incredibly weird to hear his own voice saying things he hadn't told it to, and to have his limbs moving without any input from him.  _Let's just—_ Dean stopped abruptly as Lucifer scanned the room, eyes sliding over the empty bed next to him.  _Wait, where's Sam?_   Dean really hated how his eyes kept going even though his brain told them to stop. Riding shotgun was going to take some getting used to.

Lucifer returned his gaze to the empty bed, frowning. "He's a grown man, Dean. You said he went to the bar last night; twenty bucks says he went back to someone else's place." Lucifer stood and began to pace around the room unconcernedly, but Dean mentally shook his head.

 _You don't know Sam; he wouldn't have gone off without a word like this, especially if he was as worried about me as I thought. Check my phone and see if he left a message._  Following Dean's mental instructions, Lucifer dug around in the heap of clothes at the foot of Dean's bed until he found Dean's phone and flipped open the screen. The voicemail icon was lit, and after a moment Sam's message played through the earpiece.

"You didn't pick up, and I hope that's just 'cause you're ignoring me, not 'cause you did anything stupid." Sam's voice was slightly slurry, and from the noise in the background Dean guessed that he was standing on the street outside a bar. "I've just met this beautiful woman named Emily—" Dean heard a feminine giggle in the background— "and we're going back to her place tonight. I swear I'll kill you if you got drunk and did anything stupid with…" Sam paused before carefully finishing "that Lucy chick." As he fumbled to hang up, Dean could hear Emily asking playfully who Lucy was.

 _Well, I'll be damned,_  Dean thought wonderingly.  _Never thought Sammy had it in him._  Wrenching his attention back to the matter at hand, he asked,  _okay so I said yes; now what?_

"Now we try to sneak into Heaven. And Dean, just to warn you, I haven't been able to use my wings in ages. It's going to be a little uncomfortable at first."

 _Uncomfortable how?_   Dean asked nervously, but a moment later the question was answered.

Lucifer stretched, and Dean felt a strange shifting between his shoulder blades, a phantom sensation from the Grace-made wings. Lucifer's wings felt heavy and stiff, as though he'd had them folded tight for a very long time. The fallen angel gasped as a prickling, biting feeling swept over the wings, a sensation that Dean felt as keenly as if they were his own appendages. The best that Dean could compare it to was the kind of pins and needles he got when he slept on his arm by accident, except that it was fifty times more intense. Lucifer dropped to one knee, putting a hand on the carpet to steady himself as he slowly flapped the wings, working through the discomfort. Dean was glad that he wasn't currently in control of his body, because he thought he might have fallen over.

 _They're not even real wings!_   Dean gasped.  _How the hell do you have pins and needles in wings that aren't really there?_  Lucifer didn't bother to answer out loud, although Dean could sense a wry amusement emanating from his Grace. After a few minutes the prickling died down, and Lucifer stood again. His wings felt immense, Dean thought, although he couldn't see them at all. A thought struck him, the memory of Cas showing Dean his wings the first time they had ever met.

 _Can I see your wings now, since I'm your vessel?_  Dean asked curiously.

Lucifer didn't respond for a moment, then muttered, "yes." There was hesitation in his tone, but Dean didn't understand why.

_Then go into the bathroom, dude! Show me in the mirror!_

"Dean, they aren't going to look very nice." Lucifer remained where he was, fidgeting in a way that was very unlike him.

 _So?_   Dean was a little hurt that the angel wouldn't even let him look.  _Come on, I promise I won't make fun of them or anything! Just cause you haven't groomed them in a few thousand years—_

"'Haven't groomed them' is an understatement Dean. There are millennia's worth of wear and dirt from the depths of Hell on there." When Dean continued to sulk, Lucifer sighed. "Fine, but don't be expecting anything white and fluffy." Turning, he walked into the bathroom and faced Dean's reflection in the room-length mirror over the sink.

Dean didn't know what to say, he was so awestruck. Stretching out behind his back was a pair of huge, feathered wings. They reached beyond the limits of the bathroom, passing through the walls and floor as insubstantially as any ghost. As Lucifer had promised, they were not white. The main body of the wing seemed to have been stained a deep charcoal grey, but as Dean followed the sweep of the long primaries to the floor, he saw that they were blackened at the tips. Several seemed to have been scorched off entirely, leaving gaps in the feathers like missing teeth. Despite all that, the wings were filled with a glowing vitality that would have taken Dean's breath away, if he'd been the one using his lungs.

 _They're beautiful,_  Dean finally thought, earning a jolt of surprise from Lucifer.  _Can I touch them?_  The angel hesitated, but then Dean suddenly found himself in total control of his body again. The extra "weight" of the wings on his back unbalanced him, and he crashed backwards in to the wall.

"Jesus, man, give a guy some warning," he grumbled. Somehow, Dean knew Lucifer was smirking in his mind as he showed Dean how to balance with the extra appendages. Dean got to his feet again, and with a little more guidance, he swept the left wing forward so that it wrapped around his side. Despite passing through the door and countertop as though it were made of mist, it felt real against Dean's side. He could feel heat radiating out from the center of the wings but it was dampened somehow, as if the soot and grime were suppressing it. The sensation made Dean irrationally angry, and he took the edge of the wing in his hand, flipping on the hot water and grabbing a washcloth.

 _Dean,_  Lucifer asked hesitantly,  _what are you doing?_

"I'm trying to clean these, what's it look like?" Dean muttered, attention focused on the feathers before him. Unsure if it would even work, he ran the cloth under warm water and, starting where the wing met his shoulder, slid it gently down the feathers of the arch. Warmth blossomed under his touch, and in his head Lucifer let out what might have been a startled purr. Delight filled him as he saw the amount of soot the cloth had taken off, and Dean began to wipe down the wing slowly and smoothly, pausing every now and then to rinse the cloth. As he came to the crooked feathers Dean tried to straighten them as best he could, and the singed ones he finger-combed until the ash was gone. All the while Lucifer hummed happily in the back of Dean's head, exuding waves of security and peace that made Dean giddy.

 _Dean, we really should go._  Despite his words, the devil made no attempt to stop Dean or to retake control. Dean finished the left wing, tucked it back over his shoulder with some difficulty, and started on the right. The sink looked as though someone had burned a phonebook in it and then put out the flames with a bucket of muddy water, but the improvement was marked. Lucifer's feathers were shining almost-white again, and even the burnt edges didn't look so ragged anymore. As Dean continued his steady work, he felt a new emotion from the fallen angel; gratitude.

 _Thank you, Dean_ , Lucifer thought softly as Dean dropped the cloth in the sink for the last time and stood back to admire his handiwork.  _They look… almost angelic again._

Dean had to admit, it was a big improvement. Now that he could see the wings as they really were, he was mesmerized by their beauty. "So, you think we can fly now?" His voice was hushed and reverent.

 _Hell yes!_  Lucifer cheered. Dean felt himself being pushed back as the fallen angel took control again, and experienced a moment of disembodied panic. He really hated not being in control of his own limbs.

"Okay, here we go," Lucifer said aloud, stepping from the bathroom and spreading his wings wide.

 _Wait!_  Dean yelped, making Lucifer freeze in his tracks.  _Put some clothes on!_

"Dean, it doesn't matter if your skin is exposed," Lucifer answered impatiently. "My Grace will protect you physically as well as mentally from any dangers we may encounter."

 _It's not about the dangers, man, it's about my dignity. I am_ not   _storming Heaven in my boxers._

"We've already delayed too long; the other angels could show up at any second!"

 _Well then you'd better find some pants real quick!_  Dean retorted.  _And a shirt!_  

Lucifer groaned and dove for the duffle at the foot of the bed.  An inhumanly short moment later they were dressed, and Lucifer was shrugging on Dean's jacket grumpily. "I don't know why I humor you."

_Because I'm awesome. Don't forget my amulet!_

Lucifer crossed to the nightstand and picked up the gold totem on its cord, staring at it in shock. "Where did you get this?"

 _Sam got it from Bobby when we were little.  He gave it to me as a present,_  Dean replied, uncomfortable with the fallen angel's sudden intensity.  _Why, what's the big deal?_

Lucifer didn't answer Dean for a moment, clutching the necklace to his chest like a lifeline. "Thank you, Father," he whispered, and to Dean it felt as though the words were lifted on a breath of warm air and carried far away from them. Dean would have shivered if he could; he had never actually heard someone pray who really believed, much less felt it. He guessed that was part of the whole vessel deal.

 _What is it?_  Dean asked again, curious as to what was awesome enough to make a fallen angel pray.

"Dean, this amulet can help us find God!" The amount of excitement in Lucifer's voice was unsettling, especially considering the fact that Dean hadn't sounded that excited since he was seven. "Supposedly it grows warmer the closer it gets to Him. With this, our chances of outpacing Michael and the others just doubled!"

 _Great, so, now can we—_  Dean broke off as he felt a shift in their surroundings, like a sudden drop in air pressure.  _What was that?_

"Shit," was Lucifer's only response as he turned around, arms raised in front of him in a defensive gesture. An instant later, a very flustered Castiel appeared, angel blade in hand. The tip was wet and crimson, to match the trickle of blood from his bloody nose.

"Dean—" the young angel began, then stopped and looked closer. "Lucifer!" He hissed, taking a step back in shock.

"Hello, little brother," Lucifer smirked. "Did you miss me?" Dean felt the fallen angel shift his wings, mantling them in a way that wasn't quite aggressive, but was definitely unsettling, to judge by the look that crossed Cas' face.

 _Come on, Lucifer, don't be a douchebag,_  Dean told him.  _Cas is really sticking his neck out for us here._ If Lucifer heard Dean he gave no sign, making a show of stretching dramatically and adjusting Dean's clothes. Cas' eye tracked his movements as Lucifer lifted the cord of the amulet over his head, settling it against his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas whispered sadly. "I should have stopped you."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Lucifer snapped, "he's fine. Not that you'll believe me, since I'm the Father of Lies, but hey, I tried." Dean winced internally at the sharpness in Lucifer's tone.

 _Hey, let me talk to him._ Lucifer continued to ignore him.  _Come on, he can help us if you don't piss him off or make him attack us first._ Dean felt Lucifer consider the argument, then grudgingly hand over the reins again.

 _Make it quick,_  he warned as Dean took control.

"Cas, listen, it's Dean."

The angel's eyes widened hopefully for a second before he stepped back again with a growl, fingers tightening on the hilt of his blade. "Stop trying to trick me, Lucifer. You got what you wanted; why are you still here?" His voice was harsh, but Dean could hear it shaking ever so slightly. Lucifer snorted contemptuously in his head, but Dean ignored him.

"No, Cas, it really is me, I swear." Dean took a step towards Cas, hands up in an attempt to seem less threatening. The wings on his back threw him off balance as he shifted his weight, and Dean staggered before righting himself. Uncertainty crept into Cas' eyes as he watched, and the tip of the angel blade wavered and dipped towards the floor.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Look, I know you want to chew me out about this, but we don't really have the time. Luci and I—"

"Luci?" Cas interrupted in confusion.

 _Luci?_  The fallen angel echoed somewhat more menacingly.

"What?" Dean shrugged. "It's easier and less scary that Lucifer. And since we're all trying to get along with each other, I thought nicknames were a good place to start. You can thank Sam though, he gave me the idea."

 _When we're flying, I am going to do loops until you vomit,_  Lucifer threatened, but Dean could sense a sort of wry amusement in his words. Cas stared at Dean for another second before lowering his blade and mostly relaxing.

"Dean Winchester, you are the only human stupid enough to say yes to the Devil and then give him a nickname." Cas' face was tired and careworn, but he managed to twitch his lips into a small smile. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "and I suppose I owe the Morningstar an apology for doubting his words." Dean could tell that the sentence cost Cas a lot, and he gave his signature cheeky grin.

"Luci says you're an assbutt and you should always listen to what I say," Dean joked, then stopped speaking abruptly as Lucifer took control again.

"No, I didn't. I said thank you, Castiel. It's very kind of you to apologize." Cas blinked in confusion at the abrupt contradiction, and Dean felt a pang of sympathy. There was very little audible difference between when he spoke and when Lucifer spoke, and the poor angel had to be going out of his mind trying to figure it out.

Lucifer must have been thinking along the same lines as Dean because he said, "All right, Castiel, to make this easier, I'm going to be the only one actually talking, but I swear to you that Dean is still here and still unharmed. Honestly, he never really shuts up."

At that, Cas gave a more genuine smile, and a small chuckle. "No, I imagine he doesn't." The angel sobered rapidly as the three of them all experienced a series of swooping sensations, similar to the pressure change when Castiel had appeared but not as significant or local. If he had to guess, Dean would say it was other angels searching for them.

"Very well, Lucifer, I accept that you have no intentions of harming me or Dean. That aside, what do you plan to do now? Zachariah has discovered that I left my post, and he sent angels to punish me. I had to… persuade them to leave me alone." He looked at the blade in his hand with disgust, not bothering to try and wipe the blood from it. In a softer voice he added, "Adricel and Laniel, from my garrison. They should be alright, if they get help quickly. I—I might have been too rough, but I was scared and they came at me so fast, and…" he trailed off, looking lost, and still staring at the blood on the blade.

In a few steps, Lucifer crossed to where Cas stood and took the angel blade gently from his hands, dropping it onto Sam's bed. Cas looked up at him, startled, but Lucifer just wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled the younger angel into a tight embrace, wrapping his wings around them both. Cas stiffened at the touch, but a moment later he leaned into it, taking what comfort he could from the hug.

"My poor little brother," Lucifer whispered, so softly that Dean wasn't even sure if Cas could hear it. "I never wanted this for you. I never wanted battle for any of you." Suddenly Dean felt absurdly embarrassed, as if he was intruding on something private. The two angels stayed that way for another few seconds, and Dean was reminded of all the times he'd come back after a hunt where one of them had almost died, and just hugged Sammy until his arms hurt from squeezing him so tightly. Lucifer whispered a few more words in Enochian that Dean didn't understand, then gently kissed the top of Cas's head. Uncurling his wings, Lucifer stepped slowly back, leaving Castiel standing forlornly by the foot of the bed.

"Run away, Castiel," he ordered. "Find Sam, take him with you, and flee. Dean and I will find you once this is over, once Father has put a stop to all this fighting. But lastly, be careful Cas, and remember that we love you."

Before Cas could react in any way, Lucifer drove his wings out and down in a great sweeping stroke, and he and Dean were propelled into flight, leaving the motel room and Cas far behind in the blink of an eye.


	6. And We Won't Disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been re-editing these as I post them, but it's weird cause I wrote it ages ago and my writing style has evolved, so... sorry for any stylistic inconsistencies and/or grammatical errors; i'm trying to get rid of them all as I go!

Dean hated flying. The one time he had actually been on a plane had been hell, and even when it was just Cas zapping them from place to place his stomach got so tied up in knots that he was sometimes sick for days after. Naturally, he had expected physical flight under (sort of) his own power to be just as nausea-inducing, and as they left the motel room Dean knew that he wasn't far wrong. For the first time he felt the actual mechanisms of angelic flight, the way the Grace seemed to radiate out around them and push reality aside, the powerful strokes of Lucifer's massive wings as they were propelled forward into the space between times. It was unsettling, and Dean could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. Before he could do more than swear once or twice, Lucifer sent him a wave of reassurance.

 _Dean_ , he said, and Dean realized that Lucifer was speaking in his head. He supposed that made sense, as there was no way he would be able to even hear his own voice while they were hurtling through places that didn't exist at unknown speeds on what felt like two very fragile appendages—

 _Dean_ , Lucifer repeated more firmly.  _Stop freaking out for a second and just relax._

 _Relax? I'm fine. Totally relaxed. Yup. No problem._  Dean knew he wasn't speaking in complete sentences, but he was too nervous to care.

 _No, you're not. Dean, feel what's going on, really feel. Look around you. You are one of the few humans who have ever been able to truly comprehend this in all the history of creation_. Lucifer gave Dean a mental shove, pushing him to the front of his mind even as the fallen angel retained control of their actual flight. Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gasping for air that wasn't actually there, before opening them again and staring tentatively around. He blinked in surprise, taken aback by the surroundings.

Lucifer was flying through what looked for all the world like a forest of ribbons, each one stretching infinitely vertically in both directions. The ribbons were all different sizes, some thicker, some twisted up around themselves or with each other, and each one seemed to be made of glass, or maybe water. Lucifer banked, taking the pair of them close to one of the thicker strands, and Dean peered into it.

To his surprise, his own reflection was replaced by a wavery image of a man standing on a beach, arms raised in delight. A little further down the sand, a rickety wooden aircraft was frozen in the moment of takeoff, wheels barely off the ground, sand flying everywhere. Dean laughed in amazement.

 _The Wright brothers?_  he asked Lucifer in disbelief, but the fallen angel just flapped his wings and sent the pair of them spiraling up through the streamers, weaving between snatches of time. Dean saw hundreds of soldiers holding their hands out in salute as their Fuehrer waved, and a wizened old man standing at the edge of an ocean, with salt in his hands and a smile on his face. Dean's fear fell away under the sheer awe at what he was seeing.

 _Is this… was that Gandhi?_ he finally asked.  _Is this like the heavenly photo gallery of human history or something?_

 _Close_ , Lucifer replied, leveling out again and continuing at his steady pace.  _Except these aren't images—they're the actual events. Happening right now, at the same time, everywhen. It's complicated, I know._

 _But none of them were moving!_  Dean protested.

 _The planet earth is spinning at just over 1,000 miles per hour, and on top of that it is moving around the sun at 67,000 miles per hour. And yet when you stand upon its surface, you feel nothing._  Lucifer observed, a faint hint of amusement in his voice as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

 _But that's different!_ Dean protested.  _We learned that in like high school, it's because the earth is too big and moving too fast to… oh._  Dean's brain caught up with itself, and suddenly all of his apprehension returned, with backup. Lucifer was flying really. Fucking. Fast.  _Oh god I think I'm gonna puke._

Lucifer just laughed, and it echoed around them in his true voice, making the strands quiver.  _Dean, you have no taste for adventure, do you realize that?_

 _I do so have a taste for adventure_ , Dean retorted,  _just not adventure at five times the goddamn speed of light!_  Despite the fear, Dean realized that he was enjoying this. The glimmering columns stretched into an infinite shimmer above and below them, and if they had an end on the horizon Dean couldn't see it.  _So wait,_  Dean asked as they flew past another bunch of tangled filaments.  _Up is the future and down is the past right? Then what's side to side? And why are some of them knotted up like that?_

 _It's more complicated than past and future Dean. It's opportunities,_  Lucifer answered patiently.  _Each of these is a possibility. Some have happened, some haven't, and some can't be changed. The distorted parts are places where the angels have… tampered I suppose you would say, with one or more of these potentials._  A darker note entered his voice.  _There are more of them than there should be though, many of them surrounding you and your family. Like here—_  Lucifer swept past one of the largest snarls Dean had seen, holding one hand just above its surface. Inside, Dean saw a nursery frozen in time, with a tall dark figure standing in front of the crib and a pretty woman in a white nightgown in the doorway. Mary Winchester.

Old hurts dragged at Dean's thoughts, and he waited until and his emotions were under control before he risked speaking again.  _You mean angels messed with our future there? Forced that to happen?_

 _Undoubtedly._  Lucifer's thoughts were gentle.  _I'm sorry Dean. I would never have wished that kind of a childhood on you_. He hesitated for a moment, then finished,  _but I am glad that it helped our paths cross._

They flew on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and Dean began to sink into a half-doze. It wasn't sleeping exactly, but Dean thought it was as close as he might get in his situation. The whole concept of flight from an angelic point of view was a little too huge and complicated for Dean to understand, and he had a sneaking suspicion that his mind was coping the only way it could, by trying to close him off from it. He wasn't sure how long he'd been like that, just resting and letting Lucifer do whatever it was he was doing, but at some point he became aware of a faint humming in the back of his head.

 _What's that?_  he asked, wondering if Lucifer could hear it too. The noise was steadily rising in both volume and pitch, as if the world's biggest bee was closing in on them.

"I think it's… but no, it couldn't be." Lucifer's wing beats faltered for a moment before resuming their steady rhythm. "I think someone is praying to me."

_I don't get it, why is that weird? Don't like, Satanists or something pray to you all the time?_

Lucifer shook his head impatiently. "It's not like that. And besides, those people are praying to Satan, the devil, whatever you want to call it. This prayer is for the Morningstar, Lucifer the angel. No one has prayed to me like this in millennia." Both Dean and Lucifer were quiet for a few moments, listening to the noise of the prayer building higher and higher. Dean was about to ask if you had to answer a prayer like a telephone when the humming sensation crescendoed and changed to a voice. A very familiar voice.

"Lucifer, angel of the morning star, brightest among the heavenly hosts, hear my prayer." Sam sounded tired and hung-over, and when he dropped the formal tones Dean could tell from the tightness in his voice that he was in pain. "Please tell me Dean is still in there somewhere, or we're both screwed. Dean, if you can somehow tap into this prayer then just… what the hell were you thinking man?" Sam's voice was shaking with anger and betrayal. "The least you could've done before you abandoned me is tell me, don't you think? So that the first I heard about it wouldn't have been when our favorite asshat angel came down and abducted me?" Dean's heart would have stopped if it had still been beating in the first place. Zachariah had Sam. He struggled to stay calm as Sam kept going.

"The deal," Sam spat the word like it was poison, "they're offering is my safety if Lucifer comes and surrenders. They've got me in the green room with Zachariah and some other guy who says his name is Raphael. So look, Lucifer, if you ever felt like you owed Dean anything, you get your stupid ass down here right now, before anything else happens."

The prayer cut off abruptly, and for a few wing beats there was total silence. Then Dean said very quietly,  _turn around_.

 _Dean, we can't_. The pain and sympathy in Lucifer's thoughts were palpable, but Dean ignored it. Somewhere inside him a dangerous rage was building, fueled by his terror for Sam.

 _What do you mean, we can't?_  Dean demanded, hardly able to think coherently.  _They've got Sam, trapped somewhere and they're going to kill him or do god knows what to him. Turn around, dammit, now!_

_Dean, if I go back there we both die, and Sam probably will too. Zachariah doesn't like him very much, remember? We can't rise to their bait. I'm sorry, but finding God is more important right now._

_Like hell it is_! Dean threw himself at the angelic consciousness that was controlling his body, battering at it with all his anger and fear and love for Sam. Lucifer hadn't been expecting the assault, and his wings literally stalled mid beat. Dean's body plummeted through the air, slamming through one of the time-space strands into reality.

They splashed down in a muddy ditch, wings flailing wildly as Dean and Lucifer fought for control. Dean's body rolled over once, plummeted trough a net of concertina wire that tore through his skin like paper, and dropped into a trench. They landed on a cluster of very startled men, who started yelling in German and pounding Dean's body with point blank gunfire. The pain distracted Dean long enough for Lucifer to seize control again, and he beat his wings heavily, propelling them out of the knot of terrified soldiers and into the in-between space again.

 _Dean, please,_ "STOP." Lucifer spoke the last word out loud in his true voice, and it felt as though an iron vise closed around Dean's consciousness, trapping him. Desperately he struggled to take back his body, but Lucifer's psychic grip tightened until Dean was forced to stop throwing his mind at the bars of his cage. Lucifer couldn't keep Dean from speaking though.

 _He's my brother, Lucifer!_  The Angel didn't respond.  _My brother dammit! You told me when we met that you know what it was like to have family caught up in a war. Don't you dare turn your back on my family now!_  Lucifer kept silent, although Dean felt their flight slow down almost imperceptibly.  _Answer me, Lucifer!_

 _Dean, they're going to kill us if we go back. If we don't, and they kill Sam, I'll resurrect him like Castiel did with you. It will be all right._  Desperation tinged Lucifer's thoughts, along with a healthy mixture of despair and indecision.  _I won't let you lose him again_.

 _Please, Lucifer._  Dean repeated, not caring that he was begging.  _What if they do more than kill him? What if the lock him up somewhere, or throw him into Hell? I'm not going to let that happen, and if I have to fight you every mile from here to the end of the universe, I will. I'm not letting them hurt Sam!_

Lucifer hovered for a moment, the draft from his wings rattling between the strands of time around them. Then, without another word, he dove forward, closing his wings and plummeting for several seconds before snapping them open and soaring is a wide arc back the way they had come.

_Thank you Lucifer._

_Thank me later, Dean. If none of us die._


	7. Just Because Your Eyes are Shut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the blatant disregard for canon continues....

Lucifer and Dean landed on a stretch of bare pavement outside a creepy warehouse in the outskirts of some town. Dean didn't know where and he didn't really care. He could actually feel the residual energy of Sam's prayer lingering in the air nearby, like a static charge. It was raining, a cold drizzle that soaked everything around them but didn't seem to actually be touching Dean's body. Perk of being an archangel's vessel, Dean supposed.

_Are you sure this is the place?_  Dean asked apprehensively as Lucifer gave the massive concrete building a measuring stare. The fallen angel nodded.  _Oh. I just remembered it being a little, you know, fancier._

"The exterior can be whatever they want it to look like," Lucifer answered shortly. "Are you sure you want to do this, Dean? It will most likely end horribly for all three of us." Even as Lucifer was speaking, he could sense Dean's determination, and the angel sighed in defeat. "Better get this over with then."

Dean felt an unexpected warmth spread through him. They were probably going to die, but Lucifer was going to try anyway, for Dean's sake and Sam's. "No chick flick moments," Lucifer growled, stalking towards the door, and Dean couldn't help but grin on the inside. A twitch of Lucifer's fingers brought a glimmering silver angel blade into being in his grasp, and with a completely unnecessary deep breath Lucifer gathered his power and prepared to blast his way in.

"Wait!"

Lucifer spun, blade raised warningly, to see Castiel standing a few feet away, a peculiar look on his face. Lucifer lowered his sword, but at the sight of Cas standing there so calm and collected while Sam was being tortured or god knew what else, Dean's frustration and fear ballooned out of control. Before he knew it Dean had wrestled control away from Lucifer again and was screaming at the younger angel.

"What the hell, Cas? You were supposed to protect Sam! I told you to keep him safe, and now you just show up here, when those asshats have my brother tied up like—" Dean's mouth snapped shut as Lucifer gave him a psychic shove that knocked the hunter onto his metaphorical ass.

_Dean, shut up and_ look _at him!_  Lucifer's voice was steady, but Dean sensed an undercurrent of anger that threatened to break the surface of his calm.  _He's been fighting. There's blood on his coat, and his face, and his hands. He can barely stand up and he's scared to death but he came here anyway for you, you ungrateful prick. So don't you dare tell my brother he didn't try hard enough._  Dean could see that Lucifer was right, and most of his anger turned to embarrassment, although he was still scared for Sam. Cas just stood in front of them, blinking uncertainly.

"Dean?" he asked hesitantly. "I'm sorry, Dean, I tried to stop them but there were too many of them, and Raphael is an archangel. His power greatly overshadows mine. I did try though." He sounded so tired that the rest of Dean's anger vanished, to be replaced with chagrin.

"Castiel, Dean knows you did all you could." Lucifer's voice was gentle, and Dean was grateful to him for trying to smooth over Dean's stupidity. "How did you know we were here in the first place? I was flying silently; no one should have sensed our arrival."

Now it was Castiel's turn to look embarrassed. "I can always find you. Find Dean," he corrected hastily.

"You can?" Dean and Lucifer asked together. "How?"

"I built that body back from bones and scraps of cloth using my own Grace. Even with Lucifer hiding it and the warding sigils I carved into the ribs, it is still something created of my own self. I will always know where Dean's body is, even when it isn't necessarily Dean inside." Silence reigned as both archangel and hunter processed this information.

_Well. That seems like something that would have been good to know sooner,_  Dean finally muttered, but Lucifer chose not to pass on the message. Instead, he just shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at the warehouse that held the Green Room. Through the fallen angel's Grace, Dean could feel a constant low-level thrumming, which he took to mean that the place was stuffed full of angels and unknown but probably painful Enochian magic.  _This is gonna be awesome._  Lucifer silently agreed with Dean's bleak assessment as he turned back to his little brother.

"Why are you here, Castiel?"

"Because you are, and therefore Dean. If you two are going to try to save Sam, I would like to help. Knowing Dean, I guessed the two of you would end up charging in with no backup and no plan, like he usually does." Cas' voice held a fatalistic sort of amusement, and Lucifer flashed a quick smile in acknowledgement. Dean was about to suggest that they get this Alamo started when they all felt the pressure fluctuation that signaled an angel landing, and a new voice rang out behind them.

"Hello, brother."

Lucifer froze, disbelief and hope flooding through him. Dean was confused for an entirely different reason. He knew that voice. Slowly Lucifer turned to see a short, very familiar man standing between him and the warehouse, with his hands casually tucked into his pockets and a humorless smile.

_Trickster?_  Dean asked incredulously, at the same time that Lucifer whispered "Gabriel?"

_What?_

"Brother, you're alive." Lucifer took one hesitant step forwards, arms rising from his sides as if to embrace the other angel. The look on Gabriel's face stopped him cold.

"What are you doing here, Lucifer?" The angel's voice was wary, and the smirk had slid off his face.

"I came back for Sam." Lucifer responded. "We came back, actually. Dean's still here. And—" Lucifer cocked his head to one side as he listened to the hunter's semi-coherent spluttering. "He seems to think that you're some kind of pagan god with a grudge against him and his brother." Lucifer shot a bemused look at his brother, who was grinning again. "Loki? of all the characters you could have been? Although you were always fond of your tricks; it shouldn't surprise me."  _And yes, Dean,_  Lucifer said silently,  _I am sure it's my brother. Did you never wonder why he was so hard to kill?_ Dean subsided with a grumble, although a little of his injured pride was restored. They hadn't been trying to kill an angel. Otherwise they would totally have gotten Loki the first time.

Despite his amusement, Gabriel was still watching Lucifer with caution. "You do realize, of course, that this is a suicide mission," he stated conversationally. "It's not just Raphael and Zachariah in there; they've called in half of Castiel's old garrison. The half with a score to settle, obviously. That's a lot of angry angel to go through for one little human." Dean snarled silently, and Lucifer must have let some of Dean's anger show on his face because Gabriel raised his hands defensively. The smile was gone again. "Hey, I like Sam as much as the next angel, although his sense of humor could use some work. But shouldn't you be off raising horsemen and starting wars or something? The whole apocalypse gig they've been preparing for upstairs ever since you went down?"

Dean was pretty sure the sound of Lucifer grinding his teeth was audible, and he felt a dull pain that he thought might have been his jaw popping. When Lucifer spoke, the rage that Dean had sensed before was laced through every word like poison.

"I would love to know who came up with _that_ lie." Lucifer hissed. "There's one particular corner of Hell that I would like to introduce him to myself. Gabriel, brother, if you ever believed a word I said, believe these. I have no intention of starting a war, celestial or otherwise."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Listen to me," Lucifer said earnestly. "I spent millennia trapped alone with my sins. Thousands of years to think about what I did and what I should have done. Not even I can hold a grudge that long; I've been past the pointless anger stage for a while now." Lucifer gave a small, hopeful smile, trying to transmit his sincerity into his words. "All I want to do is find our Father and apologize to him, and ask him to intercede with our brothers on my behalf."

Gabriel was still watching Lucifer's face suspiciously, but his stance shifted and became slightly less threatening. "All right, say I believe you. That doesn't explain why you came back for Sam Winchester. You're not stupid, Lucifer, you know that you can't win this one."

"Ah, but we have the element of surprise." Lucifer's grin was lopsided. "They'll never expect one fallen archangel and his stubborn vessel to attack the green room when it's full to the brim of hostile angels. Because that would be stupid." When Gabriel just kept staring, Lucifer sighed. "When Dean let me in, I promised him that I would protect his family. I told him I knew what it was like to have my family broken by fighting, and that I wouldn't let it happen to him. And I am not going to break that promise."

Gabriel's eyes widened fractionally, and he sighed deeply. "You're really serious about this aren't you? Lucifer, listen, I am the king of alternate possibilities. Ask Dean if you don't believe me, he knows all about it." A hundred Tuesdays ran through Dean's mind, and he mentally shuddered. "I am telling you, there is no version of the future where you go in there alone and come out alive. You are going to die, Sam is going to die, and nine times out of ten Dean goes back to Hell just because they can do that." A wave of terror rolled over Dean, and he was glad it was Lucifer using his hands so that no one would see them shake. He felt concern from the angel sharing his brain and ruthlessly stuffed his apprehension deep into his subconscious, ignoring it and focusing on what Gabriel was saying.

"The only thing that changes in any of these futures is who goes first. You want my advice? Walk away now. Break your promise; they'll thank you for it eventually. Go back to your little God-quest."

Dean could feel Lucifer's ire rising, the wrath of an angry archangel, but before either Lucifer or Dean could respond, Cas stepped forwards and stood beside them, the sleeve of his trench coat just brushing Dean's arm.

"They aren't alone, Gabriel. I'm going with them." Castiel's voice was quiet but firm, and when Lucifer turned his head to look he saw the young angel clutching the hilt of his blade tightly. Gabriel let out a disbelieving snort of laughter.

"Little Cassie? Well aren't you all grown up. And fighting your siblings' wars I see, excellent, welcome to the family. Always knew you had it in you. I hate to break it to you Castiel, but one little guy like you isn't gonna do much against two heavyweights like Zachariah and Raphael." Gabriel's tone was mocking, but his eyes held a hint of compassion. "Don't bother trying; just get out while you can."

"You have no right to say that to me." Dean was a little taken aback by the venom in Cas' voice as the angel glared Gabriel down. "You left us, Gabriel! You just ran away without a word. We all thought you were dead. The seraphim and cherubim mourned you with such strength that even Lucifer heard of it in the depths of Hell. You know nothing of what has happened to me since, and therefore you have no idea what I might or might not be capable of."

The outburst startled Gabriel and Lucifer both, so that they just stared at Castiel wordlessly. Dean once again got the awkward feeling that he'd walked in on someone else's family argument.

"But if we had your help, we might have a chance." Dean was a little disturbed to realize that he wasn't sure which of them had actually spoken. Lucifer sent him a little jolt of comfort and continued speaking as Gabriel's eyebrows climbed in disbelief. "Think about it, brother. You and me against Raphael and Zachariah, two on two. Castiel may not be an archangel but he's got imagination, and free will. That makes him worth ten of the others. We could do it if you helped. Please?" The pleading in Lucifer's voice wasn't feigned.

Gabriel laughed, but it was an uneasy chuckle. "You think I spent all these years in hiding just so I could make my triumphant return in a hopeless battle, on the side of Heaven and Hell's most wanted?"

_Then why are you here?_  Dean asked angrily, and Lucifer repeated the question out loud. Gabriel shifted backwards a step, confusion written on his face.

"I heard rumors you were out and about, and trying on the Winchester fashion line. I only wanted to see if they were true."

"Well, they are," Castiel answered shortly. "The question is, what do you intend to do about it brother? Are you going to flee back to exile now that your curiosity is satisfied? No need to worry about your secret being kept; if what you say is true we'll be taking it to our graves soon enough."

Gabriel cast a mournful gaze over Castiel. "So cynical, little brother. What happened to you while I was away, to make you like this?"

"Duty," Castiel replied bitterly. "Not something I would expect you to remember much of."

"Well, this has been a wonderful clearing of the air," Lucifer broke in, "and Dean is thoroughly uncomfortable with how much he knows about our family problems now. But the angels aren't going to wait forever, nor is Sam. You must make a decision, Gabriel. Stand with me, the way we stood in the beginning, or run and hide as you did before. Either way, we are out of time."

The two angels and Dean stood frozen, a scene from a tragedy that was just waiting for Gabriel to raise the curtain on them.

The archangel glanced between Lucifer and Castiel, and then stared hard enough at Lucifer that Dean felt certain Gabriel was looking at him too. Gabriel closed his eyes, came to some sort of a decision, and opened them again.

"I could never live with myself if I let you two idiots die for the Winchesters. Consider me officially unretired."

The smile that broke across Lucifer's face, the warmth that filled his Grace at those words, made Dean feel embarrassed all over again. "Thank you, brother," the fallen archangel whispered, stepping forward and sweeping the smaller man into a hug. "Thank you."  
Dean was pretty sure Lucifer wasn't just talking about Gabriel's offer of help. The embrace went on for a fraction of a second longer than Dean was really okay with, and Gabriel must have felt the same because he pulled away from Lucifer with a gentle smirk.

"You're making your vessel blush, brother. You shouldn't be so affectionate, you'll give Satan a bad name." From Gabriel the title sounded like the ridiculous notion it was, not an accusation. Gabriel turned to Castiel, who had approached hesitantly, and held out his hand to him. "Part three of the four-flea circus. I always did like you, Castiel." The younger angel took Gabriel's hand with a small smile.

"I would say the same."

"Alright, enough talking. There's a very large man in a very small room on the other side of that door who needs our help." Gabriel rubbed his hands together almost gleefully. "I've just had an idea, which is probably the best one we've got. You three were going to just knock down the front door and start fighting, weren't you? Dean's plan?" At the slightly sheepish nods of the other two, Gabriel sighed theatrically. "This is why it took them so long to 'kill' me the first time. Dean Winchester is a very straightforward guy. So are all the angels in there." Gabriel jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the warehouse. "It makes for nice, predictable fights. And predictable means we lose. So. Let me share with you the knowledge I've gathered from centuries of being king of the tricksters. Gather around students."

_Loki actually being an archangel didn't make him any less of an asshole,_  Dean complained, but Lucifer just shushed him with an amused smile and bent to listen to the other angel's plan.


	8. (Now Tell Me)

_This is a really stupid plan,_  Dean complained, but only Lucifer could hear him.  _And it feels like Gabriel and Cas have been gone for hours. Raphael's gonna get angry if we keep him waiting too long._

_It is better than entering unprepared and looking for a fight_ , Lucifer reassured him.  _Everything will be alright, Dean. Besides, my brothers have only been gone for ten minutes at the most._ The fallen angel let his Grace sweep over Dean, soothing him like a nervous cat.

_Stop that!_  Dean snapped.  _Stop_  petting  _me, it's weird._  Lucifer chuckled, but ceased stroking Dean's soul. He had thought it might annoy the hunter, and he had been right. _It's only been like twenty minutes and Gabriel's already rubbed off on you,_  Dean grumbled.

_Undoubtedly_. Their conversation was cut short by the soft flutter of wings behind them, signaling Gabriel's return from wherever he had been preparing.

"How do I look, boys?" It was Dean's voice that spoke from behind them, down to the last nuance, and when Lucifer turned the two of them saw another Dean standing there. The resemblance was more than uncanny, it was exact, down to the messy cowlick that Dean had never gotten the chance to flatten when they had awoken this morning.  Gabriel had even included the torn clothing and streaks of blood from Dean and Lucifer's accidental foray into World War I.  Dean hadn;t realized how torn up he looked until just this moment.

_That's fucking creepy._

Lucifer laughed, somehow making it sound like no laugh Dean had ever produced, brighter and more joyous. The sound reminded Dean of the angel Lucifer had been, and he felt a little burst of longing. To see Lucifer at his peak, before things had gone wrong; that would be something. Dean wondered dazedly if, even as the archangel's chosen vessel, he would have been able to look on Lucifer without being burnt by his radiance. He might not even have minded being scorched, had he been given the opportunity...

"Dean is impressed, at least." Lucifer spoke, jerking Dean from his reverie. The hunter was realizing that it was very easy to get lost in the never ending ebb and flow of Lucifer's Grace. Part of the whole vessel gig, he supposed, but definitely a part he could live without. "But Gabriel, will it be enough to fool other angels?"

"Why don't we let baby brother decide?" Gabriel asked slyly, an instant before Cas landed in a flutter of wings. The young angel blinked several times, glancing back and forth between the two identical figures standing before him.

"Gabriel?" He asked uncertainly. Both angels simultaneously raised an arm to point at the other.

"Gabriel, you're being ridiculous," Lucifer said.

"Don't call me Gabriel, brother," Gabriel answered in the exact same tone. "Your tricks are all very well, but it is not Castiel we are trying to deceive." He turned to the other angel, who was still staring hard at both of them. "Give Gabriel his weapon, please. I assume you recovered it without incident?" Hesitantly, Cas took a step towards Lucifer, holding out an angel blade that was slightly larger than his own, sharper and brighter. An archangel's blade.

"Don't give it to me," Lucifer interjected, irritation warring with amusement on his face. "He's Gabriel." Castiel stopped and glanced at Gabriel, confusion written across his features.  _Dean, help me please?_  Lucifer asked in his mind. _Gabriel is being a nuisance._

Dean was laughing too hard to really respond, but he gave an assenting feeling and then spoke through his real mouth. "Well, I guess that answers that question, huh Cas? Give it to him, we've already got ours."  _Haven't we?_

_No,_  Lucifer replied amiably.  _But we do not need one._  He neglected to elaborate further.

"Dean?" Castiel swung around to glare at Gabriel. "That was very rude, Gabriel." The other Dean burst into uncontrollable giggles in a way that neither Dean nor Lucifer ever would, and Cas went over and presented him with his sword. Gabriel accepted the weapon and performed a complicated exercise that sent it whistling through the air around him, leaving little silver trails of power crackling after it.

"Where did you hide it, for all this time?" Lucifer asked curiously. "What location did you find that was safe enough to house such a powerful thing?"

"Oh, bottom of some pond in England," Gabriel responded airily, apparently satisfied with the condition of the weapon. "It was really quite safe, only ever got stolen once. And Arthur was very good about putting it back when he was done with it."

_He's joking, right?_  Dean asked, incredulous.

_With Gabriel there is often no way to tell,_  Lucifer replied wryly. Out loud, he asked, "are we prepared, then?"

"I believe so," Cas replied hesitantly, still glancing back and forth between the two Deans in front of him. "How did you do this, Gabriel? Your Grace even mimics Lucifer's."

"Trade secret," Gabriel replied glibly. "Plus it helps that I'm the third oldest, so I've known Lucifer nearly as long as I've existed. You could do it too, if you spent a few eons with someone and I gave you a lesson or two."

"We can discuss this later, perhaps," Lucifer interrupted firmly. "Now, let us review this plan once more."

"What is there to review? I walk in there with Cas and demand Sam back. They give him to us, and then try to take me down. Unfortunately for them, they're expecting a tattered, weaponless fallen archangel. Not me." The trickster's smile was razor sharp. "I fight my way out, we all fly away, end of story."

"You forgot to mention how you're disguising me and Dean, so that we can come as well." Lucifer corrected. When Gabriel and Cas both started to protest, Lucifer raised a hand to silence them. "Even without my sword, I can still fight, and I will not allow you two to be in danger for my sake without being there to help you. And this is Dean's brother we are saving; he deserves to be part of the rescue attempt." Dean sounded an enthusiastic assent. He was offended that Gabriel would even suggest leaving him here.

"Lucifer, the Green Room is specifically a trap for you," Cas said, hesitant but firm. "It is extremely inadvisable for you to enter it, even under a veil. You're who they want, not Sam or me, and certainly not Gabriel. If you come in with us, it defeats the purpose of the decoy."

"You were a tactician in the Host, weren't you?" Gabriel asked, studying Cas with eyes that were momentarily sharp and calculating. When Cas nodded, he turned to Lucifer with a disarming smile. "See? Our tactician agrees, bad idea. It won't be more than ten minutes, twenty at the most. You can wait right outside!"

"No." Lucifer's voice held power and authority, the surety of a dethroned prince who is still a ruler. "I will not allow the two of you to put yourselves in danger for us, if we are not allowed to stand by your sides." Lucifer would not be swayed by any further arguments, and finally Gabriel gave in.

"I get the biggest 'I told you so' ever, if this all ends up going to Hell in a hand basket." He wove the last few sigils into the spell and stepped back to admire its effect. "No pun intended, of course. How does he look, Castiel?"

The young angel circled Lucifer on all sides, peering at where he knew the other was standing. "He doesn't. The spell is flawless. Had I not known where he was when you cast the glamour, I would not be able to find him."

"Yeah, flawless as long as he doesn't use any Grace. Then the whole thing pops like a soap bubble. Alright then, all suicide party members present and accounted for." Gabriel waved a hand in the general direction of Lucifer and Dean, eyes missing them by a good three feet. "Sort of. Let's get this show on the road, people." With Gabriel leading the way, wearing a cocky expression that Lucifer thought with chagrin might have been seen on his own face one too many times, the four of them made their way to the door of the warehouse. It opened not onto a dark and empty storage space, but instead into an expansive whiteness that reached for Cas and Gabriel. The Green Room swallowed them up as Lucifer and Dean followed behind unseen.


	9. Love, Loss, like a Bullet's Path

Gabriel was right, Dean realized; if they had just charged in like they planned, all of them would have died. The room was packed with angels, ranks of them that filled the back of the room in eerie stillness and silence. The dazzle of their Grace made it hard for Dean to count them as Lucifer stole into the corner by the door, but he figured at least two dozen. In a small, clear space at the very front of the pack stood Raphael and Zachariah. Sitting in a chair before them, not visibly tied but bound nonetheless, was Sam. Dean cringed inwardly. Sam looked awful. There was blood on his face and his shirt, and the way he was blinking groggily around the room made Dean worry that he might have a concussion.

_Bastards,_  he growled, ready to break some heads, but Lucifer soothed him.

_Stay calm, Dean. Gabriel or I can heal him when this is over_. Dean would have responded, but Sam had just spotted Gabriel. Or rather, he had spotted someone who looked like his brother. Dean fell silent as he watched the mixed fear and relief on his brother's face melt into anger and disbelief when the angel wearing Dean's body and tattered clothing barely acknowledged him. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Raphael glanced at him and the hunter suddenly gagged, gasping for air. The message was clear: Sam's participation was not required.

"Lucifer." Raphael murmured, scrutinizing Gabriel's face. Dean and Lucifer held their collective breath, waiting for someone to sound the alarm. If they were going to figure out Gabriel's trick, it would be now. "How is your true vessel treating you? When we heard you had taken it, we were... surprised, to say the least. Dean Winchester has proved an irritation to us in the past; we assumed he would be able to resist you longer. Whatever did you do to him to make him bow?"

"I have not harmed Dean," Gabriel corrected coolly, as much for Sam's benefit as the archangels'. "We reached an agreement, one that is not your concern." Even as tense and terrified as Dean was, he still found a moment to appreciate Gabriel's acting. The iciness of his tone, the way he barely glanced at Sam as he spoke—it was exactly how Dean would have expected Lucifer to act back when he thought the angel was a giant asshole.

"I do not sense his soul," Zachariah commented lazily, as though it didn't really matter to him one way or another. In a way, Dean supposed it didn't. "If the hunter is gone, why are you here? Surely you don't  _care_  for this pathetic mud monkey, do you?" He shoved Sam hard in the back, making the man lurch slightly against his psychic restraints and let out a grunt of pain.

"I told you, I made a bargain," Gabriel answered calmly. A hell of a lot more calmly than Dean would have, seeing them treat his brother like that. "Whether Dean is present or not has no effect on my duty to uphold my end of it. Let Sam Winchester go."

Zachariah looked like he was about to make some sort of angry remark, but Raphael spoke up, silencing him. "What an... admirable stance to take, Lucifer." The archangel's lip curled in a mocking sneer. "It seems that despite your fall you have retained some small measure of dignity."

Dean could feel the barely repressed wrath simmering in Lucifer's Grace, mirroring his own hatred, and was glad that Gabe was talking instead; between the two of them he and Lucifer would have devolved to smiting things in under a minute. Cas shifted uncomfortably behind Gabriel, and Zachariah turned his attention to the younger angel, seeming to notice him for the first time.

"Castiel," he spat, disgust filling his voice. "You would renounce your duty, your family, to defend such a traitor? Adricel may never fly again, you know. Laniel was nearly gone when we found her. They were your sisters, Castiel!"

Castiel visibly flinched at the words. "No," he muttered, eyes wide and horrified. "I didn't—Adricel wasn't hurt that badly, I know she wasn't!" The massed ranks behind Zachariah and Raphael muttered angrily, and one of the angels at the front snarled, drawing his blade.

"I will slay you where you stand, liar!" he threatened, taking a step towards Castiel, but Gabriel's wings flared out protectively and he seemed to expand, filling the space.

"Do not lay a hand on Castiel!" Even knowing that it wasn't really Lucifer, Dean quaked at Gabriel's wrath; he had never seen such fury on anyone's face, and it was startling to see it on his own. Cas's would-be attacker froze, eyes wide. "He is under my protection, as is Sam Winchester. You will let them go without harm, or there will be retribution." Sam and Cas were both watching Gabriel with wildly different expressions: Cas seemed awed by Gabriel's support, while Sam looked nauseous at the unnecessary reminder that it wasn't his brother standing there. For several moments, the entire room waited to see if the fragile peace would be broken at last. Dean could feel Lucifer readying himself, although Dean wasn't sure if it was to fight or run.

"Enough of this," Raphael snapped. "Emael, stand down!" The lesser angel flushed and lowered his weapon, angry eyes never leaving Castiel. "Zachariah, release the human." When Zachariah looked like he would protest, Raphael scowled. "You would break our word? When even the lowest fallen has kept his?" Gabriel stiffened at the insult, but kept silent. "We offered a trade, Zachariah. Now let the boy go." Zachariah grimaced but nodded, waving his hand.

Lucifer and Dean watched from behind their shroud of invisibility as Sam suddenly slumped, cut free from the will that had been holding him up. He glanced at the angels behind him with a half fearful, half loathing gaze, then turned those same eyes on Gabriel. Dean knew his brother wasn't really looking at him, but it still hurt him to see Sam searching Dean's impassive face like that.

"Dean? He's lying, right?" Sam asked, taking a few unwilling steps closer and staring into Gabriel's eyes. "You're still in there somewhere. Lucifer didn't kill you, right?"

"Sam, go with Castiel," Gabe ordered softly, averting his eyes to watch the other angels once more. Only someone who knew Gabriel as well as Lucifer could have caught the pain in the angel's voice. He did not enjoy this part of the charade. Dean wanted to cry out, to tell Sam that it would all be okay, but he couldn't. Not if they were all going to get out of this. He watched helplessly as Sam's shoulders slumped and he turned towards Cas, still wearing that accusatory expression.

"You're helping him," Sam hissed at Cas, smacking the angel's hand away when he tried to touch Sam's shoulder. "You were supposed to keep this from happening. I trusted you."

"I'm trying to save you, Sam." The sorrow in Cas' voice was not feigned. "I am sorry it has to be like this." Cas hesitated, glancing at Gabriel for instruction. Dean supposed they should have thought out their tactical retreat a bit more, but then again they hadn't really thought this would work.

"Something is not right," Raphael murmured suddenly, brow furrowing. Dean's attention snapped back to the archangel, who had his head tilted back and was scenting the air like a bloodhound. "Your Grace… it feels familiar. You are not Lucifer." Everyone in the room froze, Sam included. Dean held his imaginary breath.

Gabriel's face registered only irritated confusion. "Of course I'm Lucifer, who else would I be? Do you think there is another who would dare to claim this vessel? My Grace feels familiar, brother, because you used to know it as well as your own." Raphael looked unconvinced, and now Zachariah was appraising Gabriel as well.

_What's going on?_  Dean demanded, feeling the tension in the room slowly escalating.  _How can they tell?_

_I don't know,_  Lucifer answered, frustrated.  _Gabriel's disguise is flawless. They shouldn't even suspect that he's alive, much less pretending to be me._

_Okay, well, they do. What are we going to do about it?_  Lucifer didn't answer, but Dean could feel Grace building in his hands.  _Fight them off, of course. Cool._

"Castiel,  _go,_ " Gabriel said, glancing urgently over his shoulder at the younger angel.

As he did, Raphael moved. Even though Dean and Lucifer had been watching, the attack was almost too fast to see. One moment Raphael was standing with his hands at his sides, the next he was across the narrow gap and slicing at Gabriel's face with his angel blade. Nearly too late, Gabriel spun back and brought his own blade up to deflect. Raphael stared at the weapon, rage, confusion, and satisfaction warring on his features.

"Where did you get that blade, 'Lucifer'?" he asked, eyes narrowed. "It isn't yours. In fact, it looks a great deal like that of our dear departed brother."

_Fuck,_  Lucifer swore, and then everything burst into motion.

Zachariah dove at Cas and Sam with an angry cry, but Lucifer and Dean were there, and the attacking angel's blade met a shield of pure Grace as it scythed towards Sam's head. The rest of the angels gave similar shouts of anger that turned to surprise as there were suddenly two Dean Winchesters standing side by side. Gabriel threw Raphael off him and both enemies retreated slightly, staring.

"Well, you have to give me credit," Gabriel muttered. "It almost worked. Castiel, go now!" he ordered, and this time Cas obeyed, grabbing Sam's arm and physically dragging him to the door.

"Wait, no! Dean!" Sam was struggling, but Castiel was an angel and it was no contest. There was a flash of light as the two of them vanished, and then it was just Gabriel, Dean, and Lucifer.

"Your turn, brother. Go now. I'll be right behind you." Gabriel's voice was grim.

"You're lying." Lucifer stood his ground, weaponless. His fingertips sparked with power, making a few of the lesser angels shift nervously. Dean made a mental note to ask Lucifer about it when this was over; he'd never seen any of the angels just throw power around the way Lucifer was.

Gabriel shot a glare at Lucifer, dropping his glamour and resuming his usual appearance. The confusion in the garrison doubled as some of the angels recognized their long-lost brother.

"Gabriel?" Zachariah asked in outraged incredulity. "You disappear for millennia, only to return and cast your lot with them?"

"What can I say; I've got a thing for tall guys who aren't great big bags of dicks." Gabriel smirked, but his eyes were bleak.

"Our father—" Raphael began, but Gabriel cut him off with a harsh chuckle.

"Yeah, how is dear old Dad? Anyone seen him around lately? No? Does that bother  _any_ of you?" Two or three angels shifted nervously. "Oh, so it does. Any of you tried to find him yet?" This time, none of them moved, many staring at the floor guiltily.

Zachariah's lip was curled in a sneer. "Don't sound so noble, Gabriel. I didn't see you searching for him anywhere either."

"Oh, no. You're absolutely right, I didn't. Probably wouldn't have either. In fact, the only one in this entire room who cares about our Father enough to go looking for him is the one you're trying to murder."

"What do you mean?" Raphael asked, switching his gaze to Lucifer curiously.

"That is all I want, brother," Lucifer explained earnestly. Dean could feel tentative hope swelling in Lucifer's Grace, the thought that maybe this wouldn't end in bloodshed. Personally, Dean doubted it. Lucifer might have known his brothers before, but Dean knew what they were like now. They wouldn't believe him. Lucifer let the light in his hands die and raised them beseechingly towards the other angels. "Please, believe me as Dean does, and as Gabriel and Castiel do. I do not want to fight. I do not want to destroy this planet, or bring down Heaven and raise Hell on earth. I only want to find our Father and seek forgiveness from him, as I seek forgiveness from you."

Silence reigned for several long seconds. As Lucifer scanned the faces before him, Dean noticed that many of them were troubled, some afraid. Some were still angry. Zachariah looked unmoved, sneer still in place. Raphael hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his features, but a moment later it was replaced by a mask of righteous indifference. "I cannot forgive you, Lucifer, nor can I believe you. You ruined our home. You brought strife to our family. Because of you, Gabriel fled and our Father became distant."

"Hang on—" Gabriel cut in, looking offended, but Raphael spoke over him.

"It is our duty to stop you now, before you bring further harm. Tell your plight to Death, and see if he shall spare you."

"Brothers, please—" Lucifer began, but then Gabriel was in front of them, pushing them back towards the door.

"Lucifer, you and Dean need to leave, now. They're going to lock us in here." The strain in Gabriel's voice was apparent, and when Lucifer glanced back at the door Dean saw that it had shrunk to half its original size. The glowing portal was trembling, minute contractions and expansions making the edges ripple.

_Gabriel must be holding it open._  Lucifer answered Dean's unasked question. Out loud, he protested, "Gabriel, you won't be able to hold the portal steady and go through it at the same time. I'm not leaving you here." Zachariah and Raphael were advancing from either side now, blades out and wings spread menacingly. Behind them were some of the more eager angels, also ready to fight.

"Lucifer this is not an argument. You need to find Father, right? So go do it! I'll be fine. They're not gonna kill me." Gabriel did have a point—Dean was reasonably certain that they would try to "reeducate" him before resorting to outright killing. Lucifer and Dean didn't have even that slim chance.

"No. I'm staying with you." Grace began to glow in Lucifer's palms again, and the nearest angels shrank back cautiously. There were still too many of them though.

_Lucifer, we need to get out of here. Is there any other way Gabe could sneak out once we're gone?_  Dean's mind was racing. Not his heart though, because that wasn't really his anymore.  _We may have to just trust that he'll get out._

_I am_ not _going to abandon him!_  The force of Lucifer's words slammed into Dean, dazing him.

_I'm not—_  Dean struggled to make his thoughts coherent again.  _I'm not saying we should. It's a logical retreat. We'll come back for him later, when we're not so outnumbered._

"Lucifer, please!" Gabriel backed into them, physically pushing Dean's body towards the doorway. In response, Lucifer planted his feet and pushed back, refusing to let Gabriel send him through the portal. "Don't make all this for nothing, brother."

While Gabriel was distracted, one of the lesser angels darted forward, blade held high. Lucifer snarled and thrust out a hand, and a bolt of what looked like iridescent electricity shot past Gabriel, hitting the angel's blade like it was a lightning rod and traveling down into his body. The angel screamed, writhing, eyes smoking, before collapsing to the ground in a heap. Everyone in the room stared.

_What the hell was that?_  Dean demanded. He couldn't tell if the angel was dead or not, but his eyes were burned out the way Pamela's had been when she looked at Cas' true form. He was no angel expert, but Dean was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to happen to the angels themselves.

_I told you I needed no blade, Dean._  Lucifer responded, and Dean shivered at the bloodthirsty glee in the archangel's thoughts. He could practically feel Lucifer's mind turning cold and dark, slipping into that bottomless rage that terrified Dean.  _The cage that they trapped me in gave me plenty of time to hone my skills, and a coward attacking from behind is an easy target._ Dean felt his mouth twist into a savage grin, and Lucifer leaned forward to whisper in Gabriel's ear. "We can defeat them, brother. We could kill all of them, you and I." Dean shook inside his own mind, praying that Gabriel could talk Lucifer down before the archangel lost control completely.

"No, Lucifer." Gabriel's voice wavered slightly, and Dean had the distinct impression that right now the archangel was just as afraid of Lucifer as he was of Raphael and Zachariah. "Please, calm down. They are still your brothers and sisters. You did not come here to fight, remember that. Dean is telling you to leave too, isn't he?"

"I came in peace, brother, and they chose war. I am not our Father, to forgive. They deny me that right, claim that I am a monster, and so I shall be." Lucifer spread his massive wings, tattered as they were, and all of the other angels but Zachariah and Raphael took a step back in alarm. "As for Dean..." Lucifer hesitated, and Dean sent a wordless appeal for peace, but the fallen angel ignored him. "This is not his body any longer, nor his fight. Sam is safe. Dean has no say in this."

"Dammit, Lucifer." Gabriel sighed. "You're going to have about a minute, Dean. Run." Before Lucifer could respond, Gabriel twisted around and pressed two fingers to his forehead. There was the disconcerting and slightly painful sensation of standing still while a river of ice blasted past him, and then Dean was standing there, on his own feet, in his own body.

"Gabriel, what the hell—" Before Dean could even finish the sentence, Gabriel put a hand on his chest and shoved him. Without Lucifer's strength, Dean flew back, slamming into the half-closed door and then through it. The last thing he saw was Zachariah reaching after him with a snarl until Gabriel grabbed him by the neck and threw him into Raphael. Then there was a flash and Dean was lying on the floor of the warehouse. In front of him, the door to the Green Room closed with a snap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mad cackling*  
> My deepest apologies to every one of you. All I can say is chapter 10 is in the works and I don't know why any of you still like me...   
> Also, as this is it for the transfer chapters from ff.net, you get them one at a time now, at my usual glacial pace. Sorry!!


	10. Tear Through the Cavity of My Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehhhh it’s been ages, I know, I’m sorry. It has also been brought to my attention that Zachariah is not traditionally considered an archangel, but for some reason I decided that he was in this fic and I’m sticking to it. Also there is sudden gruesome imagery in this chapter. That will be all. Enjoy!!

Dean heard the sound of feet slapping concrete, and then his brother and Cas were leaning over him.

"Dean?"  Sam asked, at the same moment that Cas said, "Lucifer, what happened?"  Sam glared at Cas, then at Dean.

"S’me, Sammy," Dean groaned, trying to catch his breath.  He managed to struggle into a sitting position, then vomited.  He could feel Lucifer, trapped behind whatever spell Gabriel had cast, and the archangel was deadly silent.  Dean could sense his cold wrath growing, Grace like ice where it bordered Dean's soul.  The sensation was uncomfortable, terrifying even, and Dean almost threw up again.  Instead, he braced his hands on the floor and took deep breaths, trying to control his shaking body.

 _Lucifer?_ he asked hesitantly, reaching out a mental hand to the archangel.  Lucifer's Grace surged against its bonds, suddenly wild and furious, and part of it slipped past the wall and twisted Dean's thought until the hunter let out a gasp of pain.

 _Do not speak to me._  The thought was like frost creeping through Dean's veins, death by hypothermia.  Dean cried out and pulled away.  Gabriel's wall, already frozen, cracked a little.  Suddenly, Dean became aware of Sam at his side, shaking Dean's shoulder.

"What is it, Dean?  What's happening? Where's the devil?"

"Stop it, Sam!"  Dean shook his brother off and got unsteadily to his feet, wiping his hand over the back of his mouth.  Gabriel had said he would have a minute.  How much time was left?  Where was Dean even supposed to go?  Another angry stab of ice from the archangel made him stumble.  Anywhere, Dean decided.  Anywhere but where Sam and Cas were.  The archangel inside his mind was almost a completely different person from the sad, clever angel that Dean had said yes to.  This was Lucifer the Fallen now, as clearly as if a switch had been thrown.  Dean didn't want this angel anywhere near his family.

"Cas, take Sam to Bobby's.  Angel-proof the place, and you either stay in there with them or run, you hear me?  Don't come back here."  Lucifer's murderous intent washed against the wall in Dean's head, and he shivered again as the cracks spread.  "Don't come back for me, Cas."

"Dean, what the hell's going on?  You really said yes?  Who was that other angel?"  Sam's voice was full of confusion and betrayal, and Dean flinched.  he couldn't look at Sam, afraid that his brother might see the devil in his eyes.  He wanted to tell Sam everything, but there was no time.

"Sam, I promise I'll explain everything later if I can. Cas can tell you most of it.  But you two have to go now.  I don't know when whatever Gabriel did is going to wear off, and—" Dean choked on his words as Lucifer tested his prison bars again.  "Just go, Sam.  Cas, take him!”

"Other angels will be here any moment, Dean.  Let me take you with us; perhaps we could put you in the panic room—"

"That room's not designed to hold an archangel, and you know it,"  Dean interrupted, shaking his head impatiently.  "Go.  We'll be fine."  Dean gritted his teeth as Lucifer stirred again, washing against the back of his mind like a pool of liquid nitrogen.  He wavered, and this time it was Cas who steadied him.

"What is my brother doing?"  Cas asked softly, face tight with concern that Dean didn’t think was entirely for him.

"He's just—he wants to hurt them.  He wants to kill _all_ of them."

After a long moment's hesitation, Cas murmured, "you can force him out, you know.  Just rescind your invitation, and he'll have to leave."

Startled, Dean just gaped at Cas.  The option hadn't even crossed his mind, but...  He realized that the archangel in his head, though still furious, had gone very quiet all of a sudden.  Everything seemed to freeze.  Could he really do that to Lucifer?  Send him back to Hell?  It might possibly save lives, angelic lives.  Once more Dean was struck with the thought that he couldn't knowingly send anyone to hell, even Lucifer.  But if Lucifer hurt Sam, or Cas...

"I—"

Dean wasn’t sure what he had been about to say, but he was cut off by a terrible rushing sound and then several things happened at once.  Angels landed all around them, blades drawn and ready to fight, Cas grabbed Sam's arm and reached for Dean, the last of Gabriel's power vanished abruptly, and the full force of Lucifer's rage fell on Dean.  He screamed in agony, body convulsing and vision whiting out.  The last thing he saw was Cas wrenching his hand back as though he had been burned.

 

Dean floundered, blind and alone, in some dark corner of his own mind.  Cut off from his body, he didn’t even know how long he had been there.  Then a light appeared, bright and horrible, and Dean would have run and hidden if there was anywhere for him to go.

“Dean Winchester.”  Lucifer’s voice was terrible, devoid of any emotion save for a wrath that eclipsed Dean’s very being.  “How dare you?”  Dean still couldn’t feel anything but that overwhelming fury, as though he were naked in the middle of a blizzard.  

“Lucifer, please,” he gasped, but the archangel ignored him.  The glare only grew, deadly sunlight reflecting off a glacier, searing Dean’s soul.

“Did you think that was an acceptable trade, Dean?  Your brother for mine?  A human for the best archangel?”  Lucifer continued to speak in that empty voice, every word a spear of ice through Dean’s heart.  

“I’m sorry,”  Dean mumbled through numb lips.  “I didn’t have a choice.  Gabriel pushed me away.  They were going to kill us both.”

“ _Then we should have died!_ ” Lucifer screamed, and true vessel or not the fallen angel’s voice tore into Dean and left him bleeding.  “You should have fought him!  Instead, you abandoned him, forced _me_ to abandon him!”

“He wanted us to go, Lucifer!”  Dean didn’t know where this strength was coming from, but he managed to hold together in the face of the archangel’s power, resisting the frozen Grace that was trying to rip him to shreds.  “He was saving you!”

“I should not have been saved!”  In an instant, Lucifer’s rage diminished, turning inwards.  The gleam of his power dimmed, soot clouding the once pristine Grace.  “Not for me.  Gabriel should not have been sacrificed for my sake.”  And this, now this Dean understood.  Tentatively,  still terrified, he reached out towards the archangel.  

“Little brothers do things like that, though.  Whether we deserve it or not.”

“How would you know?”  The rage was back, clawing at Dean, but he held on, throwing his words at the fallen angel.

“You feel like he’s so much better than you, and you don’t deserve to have him care about you because all you ever do is screw him up when he gets close to you!  You wish he’d just left you alone and gotten on with his life, because then he might have actually had one!”  Lucifer’s wrath melted away like an ice cube in the sun, and Dean finished softly, “I know, Lucifer.  I’m sorry.”

Dean’s words were met with thick, smothering silence, and he wavered, drained by the assault of Grace that he had somehow survived.

“Gabriel is gone.”  Lucifer spoke slowly, as though testing the words to see how they sounded.  “Dead.  Or captured, to be ‘reeducated’.  Either way, my brother is truly gone this time.”  Sorrow came rushing up to fill the void left by Lucifer’s anger, a sadness so deep and dark that it overwhelmed Dean. Exhausted and battered by their argument, Dean couldn’t fight anymore, and he lost consciousness.

 

Castiel flew Sam to Bobby’s, hardly saying a word to the old hunter when he appeared in the center of the man’s living room holding a battered Sam.  “Apply the sigils.  I will be back,”  he informed Sam tersely, already calculating what might have been happening to Dean in the seconds he’d been gone.

“Wait, no, Cas!”  The hunter grabbed his arm, and Cas stared up at him, startled.  Sam was not usually willing to touch him, even casually.  “You can’t just… just leave me here!  What the hell is going on?  Who was that other angel?  At the end, was that Dean, or Lucifer?”

Bobby choked on whatever he’d been about to say, and Sam gave him a quick glance that Castiel interpreted as an “I’ll fill you in as soon as I can” look.  While he was distracted, Castiel carefully but firmly removed his arm from Sam’s grasp.  

“The other angel was Gabriel.  I believe you know him as the Trickster.  I promise I will tell you everything later, but right now I must go help them.”  If they were even still alive.  If there even was a “them”, and Lucifer hadn’t harmed Dean, by accident or on purpose.  

Castiel clenched his right hand into a fist and felt a sharp prickle in his fingertips as his Grace tried to heal the frostbite there.  It was unnatural, of course, from an unnatural cold, and his vessel would not heal from it so easily. But Castiel had to believe that Lucifer had not meant to injure him, that he would not injure Dean, and that he would not come after Sam.  The uncontrolled rage that Castiel had sensed just before he fled, though... and Dean had told him not to come back.  But there was no way that one unarmed angel, even an archangel, even Lucifer, could fight the number of angels that Castiel was sure were coming after them.  And even if he could… Sam’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Help them? Cas, you have to—”

“No, Sam!”  Castiel’s voice was rough.  How long had he been here, now?   Two minutes?  Three?  He needed to get back to Dean and Lucifer.  “Put up the sigils.  I will return when I can, with Dean.  Do not leave the house.”  At that he was gone, tearing through space until he landed with a rush in the warehouse again, blade at the ready.  

When he landed, the building was eerily silent and pitch black, doors closed and lights off or burned out.  Castiel stood for a few seconds without moving, listening for the sound of other angels and letting his eyes pierce the darkness.  What he saw, even though he had been half-expecting it, left him frozen with horror.  

The first of the bodies, if they could even be called that anymore, lay only a foot or so away.  Emael’s head had been twisted nearly off his shoulders, clusters of ice crystals exploding from his eyes, his mouth, his nose.  The corpse was on its stomach, Castiel thought, but most of the back, where his wings might have been, was scooped away, leaving the splintered ends of spine and scapula glistening and bloody.  From so close, Castiel could see the inside of the vessel’s ribcage, shattered from being thrown across the room.  Charred black wings spread from the remains, and as Castiel followed them with his eyes he saw that they overlapped with another set of imprints, and another.

Slowly, Castiel’s gaze tracked across the floor, counting with detached horror.  Two more, five, nine, twenty.  Two dozen mutilated bodies stretched out before him in a haphazard mess of death, and in the center of it all stood Lucifer, motionless, head bowed.    Dean’s clothes were soaked in blood, his skin stained crimson.  Castiel took a careful step forward, but there was no reaction.  He approached until he was only a few feet away, then hesitated.  Dean’s eyes were wide open but blank, as though there was neither man nor angel behind them.  Castiel gripped his blade tighter to hide his shaking hands.

“Dean?”  

No response.

“Lucifer?”

Dean’s head whipped around, eyes so dark they might as well be black.  In the space between heartbeats Lucifer vanished and reappeared behind Castiel, hands closing around the bases of his wings before Castiel realized what was happening.  A searing pain shot through Castiel’s body as Lucifer began to tear, the archangel’s frigid Grace chewing through Castiel’s physical and angelic flesh alike.

“Brother, no!”  he shrieked, resisting the urge to thrash because struggling would only worsen the wounds.   “It’s Castiel; I want to help!”  Lucifer stopped attacking, but remained silent, still gripping Castiel’s wings tightly. “Lucifer?”  Castiel twisted to look over his shoulder, panting slightly from fear.  The archangel’s eyes were completely insane, not a hint of awareness to be found.  “Please, Lucifer,”  Castiel repeated softly, letting his blade fall to the ground.  They stayed that way for another few seconds, a frozen tableau.  Castiel knew that he was dead if he made one wrong move, so he made no move at all, waiting.  Then Lucifer blinked, drawing in a shaking breath in a way that was so similar to Dean that Cas almost thought it was the hunter for a moment.  

“Castiel?”  Lucifer dropped his hands instantly, shame and fear written all over his face.  “Did I—”  he glanced around, seeming to notice all the dead for the first time.  “No,”  he whispered, shock twisting his features.  “I didn’t mean to—I never wanted—”

“Lucifer.”  Castiel turned quickly and grabbed his brother’s arm, sensing that he was about to bolt.  “Wait.  What happened?”

“I—”  Lucifer glanced around wildly.  “I killed them, all of them.  All of the ones that came after me.  I was just—Gabriel—”

Castiel shifted his grip to Lucifer’s shoulders, shaking him slightly.  “Calm down.  Do you know what happened to Gabriel?”  There was nothing Castiel could say about his fallen garrison right now, and he didn’t even try.  

“No.” Lucifer’s voice was tight.  “I—Dean didn’t see.  He could be dead.  Because of me. ”

“It is not your fault,”  Castiel answered, as firmly as he could manage.  “Listen to me.  Gabriel agreed to help us knowing what might happen.”  Lucifer stared at him with Dean’s hopeless green eyes, looking frighteningly small and lost, and Castiel swallowed hard.  “We may still be able to save him.  I do not think even Zachariah and Raphael would kill an archangel so lightly.”  Lucifer nodded slowly, and if he didn’t exactly look hopeful, at least Castiel didn’t think he would fly away as soon as he released him.  Letting go and taking a small step back, Castiel asked his most troubling question.

“Is Dean all right?”

In a disturbingly uncharacteristic gesture, Lucifer broke eye contact, glancing down at the floor.

“Lucifer? What have you done?”

“Dean will be fine.”

“Will be?  Did you hurt him?”

Lucifer smirked humorlessly, glancing back up at Castiel with bitter eyes.  “Look at us, brother.  I fell because I had no love for humans, and you because you have too much.  Your brothers and sisters lie slaughtered around you, and your concern is for one human soul?”  The archangel shook his head, staring down at Dean’s bloody hands in bemusement.  “What is it about him, Castiel?  Why does Dean Winchester inspire more loyalty and love in you than your own kind?”  Glancing up and catching the look on Castiel’s face, Lucifer added, “I was angry.  I may have… damaged him.  He will recover.”

“Damaged him how?”  Castiel demanded, resisting the urge to grab his brother and shake him.  “Lucifer—”

“Peace, Castiel.  Dean is all right.  Exhausted, but surprisingly whole after weathering my wrath.  I have not left him with any scars worse than those he already bears, nor any that will not heal, I promise you.”

After another moment’s intense scrutiny, Castiel nodded and stepped back.  “Very well.”  Silence fell, one in which Castiel had time to truly consider their options at this point.  Sam was safe for the moment, although it would be smartest for him and Bobby to relocate soon to avoid the retaliation of the angels.  If Lucifer was not underestimating the damage he had caused, then Dean would be alright soon.  If Raphael and Zachariah planned to reeducate Gabriel the way they had tried to “fix” Castiel, the archangel could probably resist for far longer than Castiel had.  If they chose to simply kill him, though…  sharp sorrow pierced Castiel’s heart.   In that case there was nothing Castiel could do anyway, so he refused to dwell on it.

“We need to leave, Lucifer.  No doubt Raphael is already moving to try and trap you again.  Let us return to Bobby Singer’s house.  We must relocate Dean’s family, and they deserve an explanation from you and Dean as well.”

Lucifer looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, but then his face softened.  “Yes, they do.  But first…”  the archangel turned and stretched a hand out across the floor of the warehouse, over his fallen brethren, eyes drifting closed in concentration.  A spark leapt from his fingertips, and an instant later a swath of flames followed, white hot and all-consuming. They washed over the floor, swallowing the corpses, searing the bloodstains away, and licking at the walls like an ocean of fire.  Castiel flinched reflexively when they swirled around him, but the flames were cool and didn’t even singe the tail of his coat.  Lucifer saw the motion and smiled sadly.

“My fire burns only that which I want it to, brother.  Do not fear.  In fact, give me your hand.”  Puzzled, Castiel offered his left hand to Lucifer, but the archangel shook his head.  “The one that I burned earlier.”  

Taking his brother’s injured hand in both of his own, Lucifer focused on the frost-blackened fingertips.  To Castiel, it seemed that this small act of healing took far more effort than setting the entire warehouse ablaze, but eventually a new flame blossomed out of Lucifer’s palm.  This flame was blue-green, and oddly warmer than the cleansing white fire of before had been.  Mesmerized, Castiel watched the blackened skin of his vessel heal, the pain dwindle to nothing.

“Thank you,” he murmured when Lucifer had finished, flexing his fingers.  The burn in his Grace from Lucifer's previous assault had faded as well, although there was still a sort of spectral soreness around his shoulders.  

“I am simply trying to clean up my own messes.  The messes that I seem to constantly be making.”  Lucifer shrugged, and to Castiel’s relief he cleaned the blood and gore from himself with the motion.  “Lead on, Castiel.  Take me to Dean’s family.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive off reviews; they guilt me into continuing (sometimes), so if you like it.... tell me?


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